


Home in the Stars

by ScarletDevil1503



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Kylo Ren Love Story, Romance, Sci-Fi, Sequel, Stormtrooper, Traitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDevil1503/pseuds/ScarletDevil1503
Summary: Sequel to "Never the Same." Kylo Ren, now leader of the First Order, struggles between a secret obsession and his ambition for power. Lucia Caltrel, former bodyguard turned traitor, seeks to redeem herself in a game where the only rule is survival. Set not too long after The Last Jedi. Kylo/OC. AU.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. The Runabout

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is a sequel to my fic "Never the Same," the story of a Stormtrooper falling in love with Kylo Ren.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.

**S-2_C-1: The Runabout**

**34 ABY**

The break from hyperspace, though unplanned and immensely dangerous, almost felt like a relief. The stars danced peacefully in the vastness of space rather than blur by in a chaotic kaleidoscope. I immersed myself in the digital novel on my datapad, picked up from a merchant on the last spaceport we had visited. Though he didn't have the hyperdrive repair piece we had been searching for, he did have a tasteful collection of historical space adventures. I glanced at the blinking autopilot light every few minutes.

The vessel that Vegas had haggled for on Takodana was more or less a runabout vessel. In other words, a space junker. It was capable of hyperspace travel and had the capacity for a crew of four. Vegas suspected that the runabout had been modified for the hyperdrive, so it wasn't entirely compatible with the vessel's computer systems. In other words, we had been scammed.

A glint in the near distance caught my eye, causing me to lower my datapad. The light of a nearby star flashed off a rotating bit of space debris directly ahead. My eyes narrowed as I tried to make out the insignia on the side of the ruined hull of a spaceship—a cargo ship perhaps? Suddenly, I realized we were getting much too close much too fast.

Grabbing the control sticks on instinct, I pulled up hard and fast. The runabout lurched upwards, triggering all sorts of alarm signals and flashing lights. "Vegas!" I shouted, hoping to wake him. _I can't fly this thing!_

Right on cue, Vegas pitched himself into the co-pilot seat, hair disheveled and eyes half-crusted with sleep. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, using the controls to even us out. He maneuvered around several more pieces of debris as I caught my breath, heart beating out of control.

"It just came out of nowhere!" I said, dazed. We were silent as Vegas finished maneuvering the debris field, and I sensed his nerves. Lack of sleep, stress, and constant running had been the theme of the last four weeks of our lives. I had never imagined that escaping the First Order would be so … slow.

"Was that First Order?" I asked once we were clear, stealing a glance at Vegas. He was resetting the autopilot with his usual tired mask in place.

"No—that design is Resistance. Couldn't make out the symbol though."

 _Another Resistance graveyard_ , I thought. To say that the First Order had stepped up their assault on the Resistance after the destruction of _Starkiller_ was an understatement. The bits of intergalactic news we picked up from trading posts and merchant planets spelled doom for the Resistance—and soon. It was even rumored that one of the Resistance heroes credited for _Starkiller_ , Rey, was dead. Even General Organa's fleet hadn't transmitted in weeks.

Vegas was biting his lip in thought. "I don't like the idea of Yavin now."

I clenched my jaw to keep it from dropping. "We're just two days away," I said in a skeptical tone. "And they will definitely have that part."

He shook his head, making eye contact for the first time. " _They_ could be close. And since we're not in hyperspace, they could track us without us even knowing."

This wasn't the first time that we had changed course based on Vegas' worries. I felt my temper building. "They're going to be 'close' no matter where we go in the galaxy, Vegas."

"Not in the Cadavine Sector—no bases there," he argued.

I nodded with an incredulous smile. "Which is why we need our hyperdrive fixed."

His tired eyes sparked with annoyance. "We can't fix it from a First Order brig, now can we?" he snapped.

 _He sounds like a coward._ I clenched my hands into fists to keep from voicing my thoughts. My eyes tracked back to the main viewport. "No, we can't," I ground out.

"I don't want to argue with you, Luce. We just can't take risks right now. We've come so far—"

"I know," I interrupted like a child. "I'm just tired, John. Really tired."

I felt his eyes on me like he was trying to read my mind, to see if I was hiding something. His next question had become familiar to me. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," I said, rising from my seat. "Did you get enough sleep?" I asked, unfeeling and expressionless.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Go get some rest."

With a scowl on my face, I vanished into the crew cabin, a tiny, dark room with four bunks and a refresher. The small space offered barely any relief from the suffocating runabout. I sat on the edge of my bunk and planted my face in my hands, elbows on knees. My mood had gone from indifference to devastation in the blink of an eye. _This isn't me._ I massaged my fingers into my brow to smooth out the wrinkles.

Four weeks on the runabout had left me a ruined mess. I hated to admit it, but I missed the purpose and dignity that the First Order had given me. My time there had transformed me from a lost young woman searching for her place in the galaxy to a confident leader filled with passion and resolve. If it hadn't been for Vegas' idea of escape, I would still be there. If it hadn't been for the First Order's turn from military conquest to senseless murder, I would still be there. If it hadn't been for Kylo's abuse, I would still be there.

I shivered at the memories of my final days with Kylo Ren. Dark, irrational, and controlling—unrecognizable compared to the man that I fell in love with. Before those times on the _Finalizer_ , I thought that he had felt the same way that I did. However, when I look back on everything, I doubt he ever loved me.

The thoughts drew my attention to the gnawing cramps in my abdomen. Sitting up, I pressed a hand there and let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. I jumped when I heard a soft knock on the cabin door.

"Luce?" I chose not to respond, and the door cracked to reveal a sliver of Vegas' silhouette. "We'll go to Yavin," he muttered, resigned.

"Thank you," I said, eyes downcast.

After he shut the door, I laid in my bunk with the thin sheet tucked under my chin. The cabin felt cramped without a viewport—I hated it. The sooner we got to Tatooine, the farther my problems would be. My hand crept unconsciously back to my abdomen. I squeezed my eyes shut and once again pictured the warm, red sands of my future home in the stars.


	2. The Marketplace

**S-2_C-2: The Marketplace**

Yavin-5 was by majority a trade world. Most of its citizens were merchants, their families, and the lower class workers in their employment. We docked at the largest city on the small moon, which was the only place we were authorized to land. After receiving directions from the portmaster on likely locations for our repair piece, we set out across the vast marketplace.

Our scarves and hats disguised our appearance as usual. It wasn't at all uncommon for people's faces to be hidden on worlds such as Yavin, so we didn't stand out as different. In the narrow streets packed tightly with businesses of all sorts, I caught sight of holoscreens through the large windows.

" _General Organa dead, Resistance crumbles._ " The screen played a short clip of the General's downcast face. Another read: " _First Order dreadnought blown up by dwindling Resistance forces."_ I narrowed my eyes at the second one—it was certainly hard to believe.

Then again, who would've guessed the Resistance could blow up _Starkiller_?

"Stay close, Lucy." I felt Vegas take hold of my hand as we weaved through the crowded street. "I have a bad feeling."

My eyes turned to the faces in the crowd, scanning, trying to sense what Vegas was sensing. _He worries too much._ Traders, travelers, workers, and the usual hired muscle were the only individuals within my vision. No one would recognize us in a million years. The more I looked, however, the more nervous I became.

"This is the first one," Vegas muttered, pulling us into a junk shop.

The shop was littered with shiny pieces for vessels, weapons, appliances, and many more that I didn't recognize. The feature they all had in common was the chromium shine without a speck of dust. A similarly colored protocol droid stood at the round counter in the middle of the shop. Vegas approached with brisk steps.

"Hi," he said gruffly.

"Welcome to Tana's Relic Emporium," replied the scripted droid. "We offer a variety of replacement parts for all your technological needs."

"Yeah, thanks. What I'm looking for is a part to a Mark IV Hyperdrive _Standard_ , not the Superdrive."

"Yes, sir. The Mark IV Hyperdrive Superdrive," chirped the droid.

Vegas heaved a heavy sigh.

I meandered around the shop while Vegas tried getting a straight answer out of the overly polite droid. There was even a small selection of silver and platinum jewelry—no gold though. I caught sight of myself in the shiny surface of a plated necklace; I quickly looked away.

"I do believe we do not have what you are looking for," the unit announced, looking from his data screen to Vegas' pissed face.

"'Do not'?" he snapped.

"We do not," it repeated.

I sensed Vegas' frustration. It was almost seven days that we had been searching for the repair piece. Granted, Yavin was only our second stop since our hyperdrive went down. But Vegas' sense of urgency—his drive to keep moving—injected a bit of panic into our every step. I turned to leave the shop even before Vegas was finished chewing out the droid. _Vegas is as grumpy as an old man today._

A fierce looking woman stood at the threshold of the junk shop, causing me to halt in my tracks. "Excuse me," I breathed, drawing back. She had an overwhelming presence—a mercenary? I briefly wondered if I carried such a presence when I …

"Who are you?" the woman asked, eyeing me.

I immediately scanned her armor for any sign of the First Order. There was nothing besides a bird's wing on her shoulder plate. "Who's asking?" I shot back.

"Yavin-5 security is asking," she stated evenly. Her mouth was hidden behind a purple scarf, but her eyes were a piercing neon blue.

Fortunately, I had seen the uniforms of the Yavin security force at the spaceport. She was lying. Before I could get the words out of my mouth, Vegas stepped partially in front of me.

"You're not with Yavin," he interrupted.

"And you are?" the woman asked, straightening to become nose-to-nose with Vegas.

"None of your business." Vegas' hand found my wrist and gave it a rough yank towards the exit. I looked back at the shop as the crowd swallowed us; the woman stood on the doorstep, staring at us.

"I asked you to stay close," Vegas reminded me, moving his hand to close tightly around mine.

I chose not to respond. "Who do you think she was?" I asked instead.

"A bounty hunter—maybe." I heard the frown in his voice. "Not a good sign."

My stomach immediately twisted into knots, and I swallowed hard. _Why would there be a bounty hunter after us?_ The question died in my throat as reality sank in. No one had directly confronted us before. Was our lucky streak coming to an end? I prayed to the stars that that wasn't the case.

The flow of the crowd was disrupted ahead by a large man standing in the middle of the street. Confused voices mixed together into a cacophony of different languages. I tugged at Vegas' hand when I realized that he didn't see the man. He didn't feel that either.

"Vegas!" I finally yelled, digging my heels into the ground. Immediately, the large man's face turned toward us with an equally large grin. Vegas stopped this time and turned on a dime.

The woman was there again, standing in front of the shop. Did she hear too? Vegas navigated us away from both of them, practically pushing his way through the crowd. In a matter of minutes we were already halfway back to the spaceport. A small alcove adjacent to a power building gave us reprieve from the crowd.

"Who were they?" I asked, panting as though I had just sprinted.

"I don't know," Vegas replied, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He pulled the scarf away from his mouth to gulp in extra air, eyes scanning the remaining crowd on the street. "I don't want to know."

"Should we leave?" I asked. My fingers worried at the loose strings on my sleeve, an old habit coming to surface. My mind raced like a hunted animal and I struggled to grasp hold of my decision making.

Vegas released a terse breath. "You sound like me," he mumbled.

"You've kept us safe so far," I granted, realizing my newfound appreciation.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vegas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he repeated. "They might just follow us in space too if we leave without that part."

I mulled the thought over. "Agreed," I said. "We can't use the main street now."

Without warning, Vegas lurched forward with a grunt. I caught hold of his forearms and felt most of his weight leaning into me. "What—?"

A sudden sharp pain on my shoulder caused me to gasp, and I looked to see a sleek silver dart poking out of my clothes. Scorching fire ripped down my arm and across my chest in the blink of an eye, and I screamed. I felt the sensation of falling without ever hitting the ground.

...

I came to in a very hot room. My shoulder ached, so I reached over and found a piece of metal sticking out of it. I gasped in a moment of panic. _Where am I? How did I get here?_ Nausea swept over me but I swallowed hard, willing my mind to overcome it. Keeping the metal as stable as I could, I sat up to better visualize my shoulder. A dim greenish light illuminated the wound.

The dried ring of blood that surrounded the puncture site told me that I had been unconscious for quite some time. A tranquilizer. With my eyes tightly shut, I pulled the dart out of my skin with barely a second thought. Shooting pains ricocheted down my arm as a trickle of blood started anew. Scowling, I pressed my palm against my oozing shoulder.

My surroundings were difficult to make out in the green hue. Humming machinery and warm metal surfaces indicated it could be the engine room of a spacecraft. _Definitely in space_ , my senses told me.

_Yavin_.

The memories came back with a rush of fear and anxiety. I immediately began searching for Vegas. My last memory was a large man standing in a crowd of people, Vegas' hand held tightly in mine.

I froze at the sudden sound of a metal latch on a door. My eyes quickly scanned for a hiding place but it was hopeless amid the darkness. A small light illuminated an alien figure as it came closer.

"Zikway?" the voice said. "Iba zikway un Babway."

The language wasn't familiar to me —definitely not Basic. The alien figure turned out to be a race I wasn't familiar with either. I startled when the large orange eyes looked down at me, crouched in the darkness.

"Zikway?" it repeated, scratching its tiny bald head. I decided it wasn't an immediate threat and rose slowly to my feet. "Ooman," it then said, pointing to me.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, motioning to myself. "Human." The diplomat lessons from my fleet training kicked in. I then motioned around the room with a quizzical expression. "Another human?" I asked.

"Ooman," it said again, pointing across the room.

I cautiously made my way in the general direction, bumping into what could have been a table along the way. My reaching hands came into contact with a warm body which I quickly recognized to be Vegas. His arms caught me up in a tight embrace.

"They were bounty hunters," Vegas breathed into my ear. "We were right."

I felt my chest tighten anew with fear. "Where are they taking us?"

"To _Supremacy_ ," he said in a completely defeated tone. His voice cracked in a way that I had never heard before. "They're taking us to _Supremacy_."

My spirit crumbled, and I squeezed Vegas tighter. _Snoke is going to execute us_. Without saying a word, I knew Vegas was thinking the exact same thing.


	3. The Supremacy

**S-2_C-3: The Supremacy**

Our captors were not kind. My first interaction with them was when I was searching for another source of light in our apparent prison. I tapped on a small glass porthole that showed a glimpse of the engine room personnel. Unable to communicate through Basic, I tried some common Signs with my hands. One of the orange-eyed creatures opened the door to the engine compartment and shoved me halfway across the room, muttering some angry phrases. I couldn't see the bruises but I felt them.

Barr, our alien comrade, seemed to be an outcast of the crew. He was the same race as the others, though very obviously in some kind of punishment. I regretted that I couldn't get the whole story through the minimal Signs that I knew. The two bounty hunters that abducted us were probably giving the crew the same kind of treatment.

"You awake?" I heard Vegas ask from across the room.

"Yes," I replied, clearing my throat when I heard how hoarse my voice was. It had been almost two full days with very little water shared among us. I assumed forty-eight hours had passed; there was no day or night cycle that I could see.

"What are you gonna say?" Vegas asked, and it was the most words I'd heard from him in hours. With my sight useless, I heard every detail of Vegas' voice.

"To Snoke?"

"To Ren," he clarified.

My demeanor immediately hardened. "There's nothing to say, really."

"I want to give him a piece of my mind," Vegas said with an aimless tone. "Tell him what I'm really thinking for once."

I felt my stomach churn at the very thought of seeing Ren again. Deep down, in my deepest thoughts, there were things that I never wanted to reach him. However, if he wanted to take those thoughts he certainly could. I somehow hoped that I would first speak to Snoke, who had shown me some sort of kindness in the past. I briefly wondered if I had imagined it. _Better yet, Captain Phasma._

" _John_ ," I hissed under my breath. "What if we could talk to Phasma?"

There was a brief pause. "What difference would it make?" he scoffed. "We're still traitors, especially to her."

"She hates Ren," I went on. "She would sympathize with us."

He sighed, long and deep. "Maybe in another galaxy, Luce." Some shuffling signaled that Vegas had stood to his feet. "I know you have some kind of connection with her, but she's still First Order. And we're not."

I felt Vegas sit next to me. His presence was instantly calming, and I automatically reached out to hold his hand. He laced his fingers through mine, squeezing once. "Feels like the calm before the storm," I murmured.

"That's one of your novels, isn't it? 'Calm Before the Storm.'"

"Yeah," I said, a bit chagrined. I searched for Vegas' face in the dim light. "Feels like forever ago, doesn't it?" I asked, picturing the once-hated runabout.

Vegas didn't respond right away, but I felt his eyes lock with mine. His irises appeared black in the darkness. "I wish it lasted forever."

I resisted the urge to disagree. Those weeks in the runabout had been almost as difficult as my first several weeks in the First Order. I remembered the many nights when I fell asleep at the copilot seat just to have some company.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Vegas continued. I watched his face contort into a silent frown.

"You did," I said with a smile. "You were always there for me. From the very first day."

"That's not true…," he trailed off, leaving my mind to fill in the unsaid words. Memories of hiding bruises and making excuses flashed through my mind. A dull flutter passed through my chest, settling in my gut. I fought back a frown.

"That never should have happened," I stated in a hushed tone.

"No," he sighed. "I could've—"

" _I_ could have," I interrupted, catching his eye again. The expression on his face was torn. "I could have said something. Don't blame yourself." The flutter in my stomach turned into a knot. "It was a choice that I made."

"Choice?" Vegas repeated, exasperated. "I wouldn't call it that. I call it _survival."_

I pulled my hand away to brush my hair back. "Call it what you want. It's over," I snapped.

Vegas withdrew, figuratively and physically. The instant pang of regret hit me, and part of me wanted to apologize for lashing out when he was obviously trying to help. The other part of me, the stubborn part, wanted him to feel the pain that still kept me up at night. My thoughts swirled with memories that I continuously tried to suppress.

"I'm sorry," Vegas muttered as he stood. A sudden jolt caused him to stumble as I clutched onto my seat. We froze; that was the first significant movement we had felt during our time there. Barr roused from slumber somewhere in the darkness, and I heard sleepy murmurs in his native tongue.

The door to our "cell" snapped open and light filled the room immediately, causing all three of us to cover our eyes. Two silhouettes filed into the small space, both holding weapons of some sort. It was the mercenaries that had originally captured us.

"We're here," the woman said in her ominous tone.

"Come with us," said the large man.

My heart leapt to a dizzying pace. As I stood to my feet, trying to tone out Barr's panicked gibberish, I felt sick. Vegas guided me by the shoulder, squeezing tight. One of them started yelling at Barr as the other one ushered us out the door. I reached for Vegas' hand but he pulled it away. I absently realized how that might look odd.

"It's okay," Vegas whispered as we were led through tight corridors. "If they wanted us dead, we would be dead by now."

I nodded, feeling some of the sickness pass. Adrenaline still rushed through my veins, all flight and no fight. When we approached the exit ramp, I expected to see a docking bay inside the _Supremacy_. Instead, we passed through an airlock into another small vessel. I suspected that it was one of the cargo ships that supplied the Supremacy. We soon came face to face with a First Order officer, stone faced and uniform pressed.

"You found them on Yavin?" the officer asked without introduction. The male mercenary gave Vegas a small shove to make him walk forward. I followed at his heel, receiving an icy glance from the officer.

"Yavin-5," the woman clarified. "We will need proof of the credit transfer."

The officer wore a face without expression. "The First Order doesn't 'prove' what we say has been done."

The mercenary tried to retort but her companion gestured to her. She relented with a look of uncertainty as she stared down the officer. I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile flash across his face. It made me remember the rush that came with asserting the will of the First Order.

Then, we were alone in the airlock chamber with the officer and what seemed to be his armored bodyguard. He turned to Vegas without acknowledging me.

"John Vegas," he said deeply and evenly, followed by a chuckle in the back of his throat. "How interesting that we should meet under these circumstances."

"And you are?" Vegas asked.

"Captain August, First Fleet under General Hux. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me." My eyes tracked to the insignia on his uniform. I was less familiar with the Fleet designations since all my service had been on the ground.

"Never," Vegas said in an almost mocking way.

"Well now you have," August retorted, narrowed eyes darting to me. "And you, Lucia Caltrel. Once revered officer and now outcast traitor."

I gulped around the rock in my throat. A dozen retorts appeared in my mind but I chose to stay silent. This Captain August was not worth my breath.

"Not feeling talkative, eh?" he continued, arching a brow. His eyes raked over me and I resisted the urge to squirm. "I'm sure that will change soon."

We were taken to a small lounge-like room where we were restrained onto separate chairs. The small vessel seemed to be designed to transport important—or infamous—people from ship to ship. Within minutes, the _Supremacy_ came into view. Glowing an ethereal white from the light of a distant star, the massive ship glided against the vast backdrop of space. Fighters buzzed about the forward docking bays, training no doubt. Our heading changed suddenly and I assumed we had been cleared to land.

"They will definitely separate us," I heard Vegas say, pulling me out of my trance.

"Definitely," I agreed, my voice an apathetic monotone.

"They might torture us, try to break us."

I let my eyes drift shut as I imagined the inside of a prison cell, dark and isolated. The gravity of the situation loomed over me, threatening to collapse. "Why did they take us alive, John?" my voice shook with nerves.

There was a pause. "...I don't know."

The door behind us then snapped open and three Stormtroopers appeared. Two of them positioned themselves behind us as the third stood with his rifle at the ready. "We're here to 'escort' you aboard," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You'll have to untie our ankles," I reminded them in a quiet voice.

"That won't be necessary," I heard right before the swift blow to the back of my head.

…

I awoke to the brightest white I had ever seen, causing me to squint. My arms and legs felt immobile, although I was standing. In the distance, I heard the hum of a force field—or was it close by? I blinked once, and then twice. _Am I dreaming?_

"Welcome aboard."

I fixed my eyes on him, awestruck. A fading scar across his right cheek was not the only thing that had changed. His expression was more relaxed, his eyes were softer, and his posture was less threatening. I then decided I really was dreaming.

"Will you speak?" he asked, voice soft and inquisitive.

I then recognized the device I was restrained against—the interrogation chair. Multiple metal bands rendered my arms and legs completely unmovable. My tattered clothes stuck to my clammy skin; nausea gnawed at my stomach.

"Lucia," he said, retrieving my attention. He was seated before me, leaning forward on his knees with his hands folded. His brown eyes gazed up at me almost peacefully. "Say something."

"There's nothing to say," I croaked.

He stood, reaching for a basin of water on a table nearby. He placed the ladle of lukewarm water on my lips, urging me to drink. I did, with some difficulty, and immediately asked for more. After another two ladles, I felt more satisfied than I had in days.

"Hungry?" he asked, returning to his seat.

I shook my head.

"You're probably starving, beyond the point of hunger."

I remained silent as he studied me. Starvation would explain my splitting headache and nausea. Despite this, I felt my stubbornness prevail; my eyes looked anywhere but at him.

"Why did you leave?"

The question was so simple that it could be answered a thousand ways. I looked at him—his brown eyes were merely curious without a hint of anger. I wasn't fooled by the facade. "You know why," I finally replied.

He shook his head briefly before placing his chin in his hand. He remained silent as he stared at me; this time I held his gaze.

"You left me no choice," I explained, my voice wavering.

"You didn't ask for a choice," he countered. His tone remained surprisingly neutral.

"A person shouldn't have to ask for a choice," I said hurriedly, feeling myself losing control of my emotions.

Silently, he picked up a datapad from the table nearby and held it in front of my face. My eyes began to read the words there instinctively. " _Kylo— By the time you read this, I will be gone._ " I closed my eyes immediately when I realized what I was reading.

"'Please know that my feelings for you were real,'" he quoted, looking up at me. He quietly placed the datapad back on the table.

"Kylo," I began, the name slipping out, "you turned into something that I could never love." Tears gathered in my eyes as I said this.

"You're lying," he stated calmly. He remained standing within a few feet of me. "I can tell even without looking into your mind that you still have feelings for me."

A quiet sob fell from my lips, and I realized that my cheeks were wet with tears. "You—you abused me." The words trembled off my tongue, slowly but deliberately. "Back then … I didn't realize just how bad it was, but now—" I gathered the strength to look him in the eye, causing him to shift uncomfortably. "I feel nothing for you," I said icily.

Ren seemed to be speechless. Fixed to the spot, his eyes had drifted to the floor during my accusation. They were void of emotion as he listened to me. For a brief moment, I thought he might apologize for everything he had done to me.

Instead, he said, "My feelings, too, have changed."

The statement felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me, and I sniffled through my last tears. He took a seat again, his posture casual. My mind raced at the implications. _Then why was I taken alive?_

"If fact, a lot has changed," Ren continued. "There has been a new birth in the galaxy. Old things have died." The calmness of his demeanor contrasted with the severity of his words.

Despite my emotions, I felt my curiosity pique. "What does that mean?"

He seemed to think for a moment, deciding how to phrase his next words. "That's not important right now," he said. "I simply want you to answer my question."

With his hand outreached, he easily slipped his way into my thoughts. I winced uncomfortably at the unexpected intrusion. Unable to move, I turned my head away, forehead digging into the cold metal behind me. Resisting Kylo Ren was no easy feat, doomed to fail.

"Lucia, look at me," he ordered, and I obeyed. Beads of sweat formed on my brow as my fingernails dug into my palms. My skin crawled as he sifted through my mind. "Why did you leave?"

Right before the sensation became intolerable, I felt his reach retract. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Ren suddenly knelt before me with a look of wonder on his face.

I stared down at him, perplexed.

His gloved hand then rested on my abdomen, a tender gesture. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at his touch. His eyes seemed to be searching, and then he looked up at me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The realization of what he was referring to almost brought me back to tears. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. "I wasn't sure," I murmured thickly, unable to keep the emotion out of my voice. Hot tears seared down my cheeks. "So, I'm…?"

"Yes," he said, his brow furrowing. It was the first real emotion I had seen on his face. "Yes, you are."


	4. The Room

**S-2_C-4: The Room**

To say that Ren rushed me to the medical ward would be an understatement. In fact, the med bot and the medical officer met us halfway in a random corridor to check my vital signs. Ren followed closely as they took me the rest of the way to the ward.

I was placed in an exam room to have an ultrasound done and blood drawn. They gave me water and protein supplements while they asked me all sorts of questions. Ren stood silently outside, watching through the glass walls with a guarded expression.

The ultrasound showed that I was six weeks pregnant. I watched with detached interest as the medical officer showed me the baby's tiny body. Apparently it wasn't as developed as it should have been. He described the symptoms I may experience in the next several weeks, and detailed the necessary nutritional intake.

"I have something I would like to ask," I interrupted the generic speech.

"Sure," the officer said.

I felt a flare of nerves but tried to ignore it. "When I was eighteen, I was told that I was infertile. They said it was, um," I thought for a moment, "something wrong with the lining of my uterus."

"Well, whatever it was seems to have resolved," he said with a smirk. "A woman's uterus can change over the years. Don't worry about it. We'll keep checking on you and the baby."

After the exam, a droid led me to a mess hall and left me there. The room was empty save for the chef behind the line. I took a moment to look around for Stormtroopers or guards of any kind. Cautiously, I approached the chef's counter.

"Am I a prisoner?" I asked, startling the dosing chef.

He stood from his stool in the corner and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Well, he seems to think so."

Following the line of his eyes, I looked behind myself to see a small BB-9E unit with its red eye fixed on me. How did I not see it before? The round, almost comedic appearance hid the true ruthless programming of most BB units.

"Thanks for pointing that out," I chagrined, grabbing a plate.

The chef smiled sympathetically. "Help yourself."

The BB unit followed my every move. Each step I took, the electric hum of its moving sphere echoed my steps. When I sat down to eat my plate of hot food, it watched from beside the table with its eerie red eye.

As I began to eat, I realized just how hungry I was. I decided to take it slow and see how my stomach would react. Pausing minutely, I placed a hand on the lower part of my abdomen. My greatest fear—the nagging thought that I kept pushing down, down, down—was reality. I wondered why I didn't feel more bothered about it.

Probably shock.

After finishing my second plate, I finally felt some energy returning to my body. The BB unit let out a string of garbled Droidspeak as I discarded my dishes.

"I don't understand you," I informed the bot with a shrug. I often regretted never learning Droidspeak but hardly had the time to invest into the language.

The bot opened one of its panels and extended a pincer as if to point, garbling something short and to the point.

"Go that way?" I asked, taking a step. The bot chirped tersely and rolled along behind me. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wasn't important enough for an actual human warden?

A few short corridors later, I was led into a room that appeared similar to the white one from before. However, this one had furniture and walls like an actual room, minus the ceiling. In fact, it was difficult to tell the height of the room just by looking up. I entered the open-sided sitting room, which led to the bedroom and then the bathroom. Each room had a "window" that displayed a video of a peaceful scene: a meadow, a beach, a cityscape, and so on. The scenes rotated every few minutes.

"I designed this room for General Organa," I heard Ren's voice say.

Being in the bedroom, I spun around, expecting to see him right behind me. Instead, I had to navigate outside the "rooms" to find him at the entrance to the white room. A light blue force field glowed behind him, contrasting sharply with his usual black tunic.

"I heard she was dead," I stated.

A terse frown appeared. "She's not," he snapped. He glanced away as if the subject bothered him. "BB-9E, display the night cycle," he instructed.

After a chirp of acknowledgement, the whiteness dimmed into the inky hue of space. I looked around, awestruck, as stars and galaxies appeared one by one. I had never seen such technology. My eyes quickly adjusted to the light from the uncountable plethora of stars.

"Incredible," I breathed. The continuous blue glow from the force field was a harsh reminder that this room was actually my cell. Coming back to reality, I glanced sideways at Ren.

He met my eye with an unapologetic stare. "You'll be here until you give birth," he said.

"So, eight months in this room." I pressed my palm into my forehead as I tried to process the length of time, sitting on one of the awkwardly placed couches in the exposed sitting room.

"Seven and a half. I don't see any other solution," Ren concluded, folding his hands behind his back. He didn't seem interested in entering the living space at all.

"I don't see why I'm here in the first place," I said quietly. When he didn't respond, I elaborated. "You said your feelings have changed. I'm no good to the First Order anymore because I'm untrustworthy. I don't even see why I was captured alive," I admitted.

"First of all," Ren began, and I could see in his face that he had a speech prepared. "There was no good reason for you to leave. I believe you were wrongly influenced by Sergeant Vegas." The disgust in his voice when he said the name was unnerving.

"Where is John?" I asked, suddenly worried.

The look on his face could only be described as annoyed. "'John'?" he asked incredulously. I chose to remain silent. "Vegas is safe for the time being."

I grimaced at his choice of words.

"No more interruptions," Ren said, his complacent mask falling back into place. "A series of events has occurred that has left me with an entirely new set of goals and priorities." I watched him curiously as he spoke. "Luke Skywalker is dead." He stopped for a moment and then added, "Snoke is dead."

Shock pulsed throughout my body. I put a hand on the couch cushion beside me to steady myself. "Supreme Leader…?"

"Old things needed to die," Ren said gravely. My eyes snapped up to him at the implication behind his words. _Did he...?_ His face was filled with hatred. "Yes, I killed him."

I heard the words, but I couldn't conceive them. How could Ren turn on his master to whom he had devoted himself—body, mind, and soul?

"When the apprentice surpasses the master, it's time for new beginnings. It's happened like this before," he said, and then seemed to stop himself.

I felt the icy pricks of shock settle in my fingertips. The First Order without Supreme Leader Snoke was like an army without a leader. _I guess Kylo is the Supreme Leader now._ "Where is Captain Phasma?" I heard myself ask.

"Dead."

I winced. _Did he kill her too?_ "Hux?"

"Alive and well," Ren chimed. His face took on an expression of pride as he spoke. "I've taken control of the First Order, the empire that is rightfully mine. Our progress in bringing order to the Galaxy has gained incredible speed under my leadership. No one can stand in our way … except for one.

"Her name is Rey."

I felt a strange sensation at the sudden reverence in his voice as he said this. My chest felt tight.

"She is a Force-sensitive human who mistakes herself for a Jedi. She believes with Skywalker gone that she is the last of their kind. She is stuck in the past and empowered by it." Ren was looking off into the stars; I couldn't take my eyes off of his face. "If she joined me, we would be unstoppable. Instead, she believes the lies of Leia Organa and fights for the Resistance. So, she must be destroyed."

As he spoke of Rey, the look on his face contrasted with his harsh words. That look made me burn with jealousy.

"But with this," he said, motioning to me. "Things might change. A Force-sensitive child can be molded into a powerful tool." As Ren began to pace in the large room, my hand subconsciously cradled my abdomen.

"How do you know the child will be Force-sensitive?" I asked.

"The Force is strong in my family. My mother has it. My father … didn't. My grandfather was very strong in the Force." Ren returned his focus to me. "I know because the child is mine," he said in answer to my question.

The certainty of his statement made me visibly squirm, my eyes falling to the ground. I mentally began to put together a timeline of events. I bit my lip hard when I realized that I didn't even know the current date.

It was almost as if Ren was reading my mind when he said, "Lucia, were you unfaithful to me?"

The words hovered in the air before cutting into me like a throwing knife. I stood to my feet defensively. "Those last few months together—" I swallowed as my voice got stuck in my throat. "I felt completely unloved."

As I said this, his neutral expression melted into pure rage. I distinctly felt the urge to run as he stalked towards me. "Is the child mine?" he demanded.

I froze in place, my thoughts straining to align dates and events. "Wait," I stammered out. "Let me think."

"Lucia, _is the child mine?_ " he thundered, stretching out his hand inches from my face.

"Kylo, let me think!" I shouted right before it was too late.

The mental intrusion was not gentle. As he tore through my memories, I relived the loneliness and despair I initially felt aboard the runabout vessel. I felt the tension between Vegas and I, the questioning of the nature of our friendship. Then, the night that I would regret for the rest of my life. It wasn't as long ago as I had remembered. Ren's anger faded as he mentally withdrew.

"No," he said, his voice as low as a whisper. His disbelief was evident on his face. "That couldn't be it."

"It's yours," I said, stepping away from him with a hand covering my face. Shame and regret bubbled up inside of me.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet. "I shouldn't make you upset."

 _He's only concerned with the baby._ No matter how much I wanted to see his reaction, I was unable to remove my hand from my face. It was the only thing protecting me from the burning shame I felt. "I would rather be alone," I croaked.

"Fine," he said, "I was finished anyway."

I heard his footsteps fading as he left. I wondered if I would see him at all during my seven and a half months of imprisonment. Hand still covering my eyes, I felt the warm rush of tears.

So began day one of two-hundred twenty-eight.


	5. The Wait

**S-2_C-5: The Wait**

One of the positive aspects of my pregnancy was the fact that it guaranteed my survival. From what Ren had said, I gathered that the baby was more important than myself. He probably wanted a child that was strong in the force. I often wondered if I would get to raise the child myself … These kinds of thoughts were quickly set aside so I wouldn't completely lose my mind.

I never particularly wanted to be a mother. When the doctors told me I was infertile at the age of eighteen, it didn't affect me as much as it should have. My father was devastated, although my step-mother didn't care as much. My career ambitions always superseded my personal ambitions, anyway. Now, ever since the First Order entered my life, the ambition to stay alive seemed to be my driving factor.

As the days rolled on, I got accustomed to my daily routine. The light of the day cycle would wake me, and the "sunrise" outside the "window" would greet me. I continued to struggle with occasional nausea, particularly after waking up. BB-9E, or just "9-E" as I began to call him, would usher me out to the mess hall as soon as I was dressed and ready for the day. I would eat and immediately return to the room. Morning activities consisted of reading through databases on my computer terminal, watching news on my holoscreen, or just lying around. Then lunch. Then dinner. Then I would go back to sleep.

I had never been so bored in my life.

On the fourth day, something interesting happened. I found a wrist communicator on one of the shelves in the sitting room. The decorative objects there had obstructed it from view. I immediately strapped it on and pressed the blue flashing light. It seemed to be a two-way communicator with only one frequency available.

"Do you know anything about this, 9-E?" I asked, showing the droid my new find.

He shook his head, giving an inquisitive chirp. I still didn't understand most of what 9-E said, but we had found other ways to communicate.

Hesitating momentarily, I pressed the frequency to open a com. The person on the other end responded immediately.

" _Lucia? Is something wrong?_ "

My stomach twisted into knots at the sound of Ren's voice. "Oh … I didn't realize—"

His voice was curt. " _I forgot to tell you to only use the communicator in case of emergencies._ "

"Alright," I said into my wrist. "Sorry to bother you." The reflexive apology annoyed me.

" _Don't worry._ " There was a pause. " _I'll be back on the_ Supremacy _in a few days."_

I thought of my reply for a moment. "Will you come see me?" I asked.

" _If you would like,_ " he replied. It was hard to read his tone without seeing his face.

"If you have time," I hedged.

He paused, and my imagination interpreted it as annoyance. " _Very well._ " The communicator beeped that the com was closed.

Collapsing onto the couch, I turned the conversation over in my mind a hundred times. Of course he told me that he was returning to _Supremacy_ because he planned on visiting me, right? So my asking if he would visit sounded desperate. Or did he say that just to see if I would ask?

_Definitely overthinking it._

9-E's dark frame caught my eye as he milled about the room. His red eye had gone from threatening to comforting in the span of a few days. He was the only company I had in the lonely space. Jez and Tanner, the chefs, weren't very talkative.

"9-E," I called, causing him to stop dead in his track. "Am I ever going to get out of here?" I asked rhetorically.

The bot beeped thoughtfully. He projected a small hologram with a digital countdown: _7 months; 11 days; 10 hours; 21 minutes; 5 seconds._

I laughed outright, surprised by his sense of humor. He simply resumed his endless trek around the room.

Feeling the need to distract myself, I activated the holoscreen that only displayed the current intergalactic news. Being mostly propaganda, the hosts talked endlessly about the glory of the First Order and the evil that was the Resistance. Though I was no fan of the Resistance, the reporting seemed biased even to me. They seemed to think that General Organa was dead, but Ren had said otherwise

A clip that caught my attention in particular referred to Captain Phasma as "missing." They explained that she was in a deep-cover mission for the First Order that they did not have the privilege of divulging. The clip referred to her as a war hero and showed images of her in battle. I watched with a deep frown.

According to Ren, Captain Phasma was dead too. I wondered if he had killed her like he had killed Snoke. Maybe she died defending him. Maybe she died on the dreadnought that the Resistance destroyed.

_Maybe I'm overthinking it._

I decided to go to sleep early that night. 9-E was very upset that I decided to skip dinner, but he got over it. The thought of seeing Ren again got my nerves going, which just made me nauseous. On nights like this, I could only lie in bed and stare at the stars, hoping to lose consciousness quickly.

…

Three days passed uneventfully, making way for another horrifyingly boring day. That morning, 9-E had taken me to the medical ward for my weekly check up. The officer was the same as before; he said the weekly visits would be mandatory. It consisted of an ultrasound and lab work, the same as before. Thirty minutes later, I was already back in the room.

I stood in front of a mirror and looked at as much of my body as I could see. Over the course of just seven days, I had gained five pounds. My weight had never concerned me, but then again, it usually never changed. I made a point to ask the doctor next week if five pounds was too much too fast. As for the rest of my face, my eyes were free of dark circles and my hair had returned to its usual dark brown color instead of oily black.

The sudden absence of the force field's continuous hum stole my attention. Heart leaping in my chest, I padded barefoot out of the living area to see none other than Kylo Ren entering the room. An irresistible smile broke out of my face, which I didn't realize until he smiled in return.

"You look well-rested," he said, smile quickly fading.

"I feel it." I schooled my expression into what I hoped was an unreadable mask. "There's nothing _to_ do here but rest."

He stepped over to the couch and took a seat, as casual as could be. He opened his outer robe and laid back against the cushions, fingers raking his hair. A picture of exhaustion. "Sounds nice," he breathed, but I had forgotten what I had said.

"Making progress?" I asked, choosing to remain on my feet. I twiddled my fingers behind my back.

"Slow. Far too slow." His eyes were glazed as he spoke. I was sure his most recent mission played through his mind. "The Resistance is cowardly and good at hiding."

I folded my arms. "Sounds like it's only a matter of time, though."

"True," Ren agreed, setting his eyes on me. "You're missing so much. I need you out there."

The statement came as a surprise, and I wasn't sure how to reply. A small smirk appeared on his face.

"Of course, I couldn't have you running off to join the Resistance," he taunted.

I shook my head in disappointment. "You know I would never do that."

"Do I, traitor?" Ren challenged with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

The word practically burned me, physically and mentally. I visibly grimaced. "It's not that simple."

Ren remained silent, relaxing against the cushions again. His eyes drifted shut. He was relaxed in my presence, almost vulnerable. Tracing each line of his face with my eyes, I noticed the scar on his cheek actually extended down his neck and a bit above his eye. I moved to take a seat on the bench across from the couch, folding my hands in my lap. The movement caused his eyes to open in surprise.

Impulsively, I decided to toy with him.

"There's so much I could do to resist," I advised softly, "but I don't."

His eyes locked with mine but his posture remained the same. The idle flame in his gaze reminded me of why I had fallen in love with him in the first place. His intensity. His passion. The silence persisted, so I continued, unsure of the direction of my words.

"I've been perfectly compliant this week," I reminded him. "I'm following my diet, seeing the doctor, staying quiet. All without complaint."

Ren suddenly leaned forward, closing the space between us, invading my personal bubble. His face was no more than a few inches from mine, breath brushing my nose. "You are the mother of my child. Nothing more," he ground out. My bravado instantly vanished. "You threw the rest away when you left."

He stood and moved away. A hole in my chest ripped open like a wound, stealing my breath away. I bit my lip, hard, but couldn't resist my impulse to retaliate. "You act like we were lovers. I was your _whore_."

Ren stood with his back facing me, so I just glared a hole into his empty seat on the couch. "Regardless, your duty to the First Order was reason enough to stay," he said gravely.

Still affected by his words, I fought to keep the emotion out of my voice. "From the very start, I was more loyal to you than to the First Order," I stated shakily.

"You may think so, but your actions speak louder than your words."

I heaved a sigh, deciding it was pointless to argue. The hot pin pricks around my eyes began to fade. Staring at my hands in my lap, I twined my fingers idly. There were no words for the emotions I was feeling: emptiness, hollowness? Several moments of silence passed.

"I sense your regret," Ren said, suddenly behind me. He placed his bare hands on my shoulders, and I felt the heat seep into my skin. The rare human touch felt like a drop of water in the desert. It sent a lightning bolt straight through my core. "I sense your feelings."

Twisting to look up at him, I tried to read his face. It was passive, open.

"What are my feelings?" I asked. My voice was hoarse with unshed tears. When he realized I wasn't being rhetorical, my eyebrows quirked in surprise.

"You feel conflict," he said, hands moving across my skin slightly. Returning to face away from him, I shuttered. "You cannot suppress what you truly feel, but you're trying regardless. As usual." His tone was disaffected.

I remained quiet as Ren's hands moved to gather my hair at the nape of my neck. He was fiddling, aimlessly, like a child; his mind was probably parsecs away. He was able to sense my feelings, but he didn't care about them. He cared about the baby. I inhaled sharply when Ren's broad hand grasped firmly around my bare neck. He didn't squeeze; he just held me there for a fleeting moment.

"You'll remember your place soon enough."

_My place…?_

My heart continued to race even as Ren walked away. I didn't dare to stop him without having something important to say. _What is my place in the First Order? When will I see you again? When can I leave this place?_ These questions teemed at the back of my mind as the force field's unfriendly hum began again. At the front of my mind was the way his hand felt on my neck, and the tingling sensations shooting down my hands and feet.


	6. John Vegas

**S-2_C-6: John Vegas**

When I woke up the next morning, 9-E was noticeably absent. Usually, the droid zipped around the room until I followed it to breakfast. My unsupervised curiosity got the best of me and I inspected the one thing that the BB unit would never let me touch: the force field. Following it around the perimeter of the white room, there didn't seem to be any visible power supply. The only exposed panel was the door control, which was a simple biometric reader. Recalling my old officer's quarters, I let my fingers rest on the device for a long moment.

A computer voice said, " _Error: user not recognized. Error: user not recognized._ "

To my shock, the door slid open of its own volition, and the force field powered down. A Stormtrooper stood on the other side of the door. "Oh! It's you," said a male voice with equal surprise. "Were you trying to get out?"

Deciding it was useless to lie, I said, "Yes."

The Stormtrooper shifted uncomfortably. "That's … not good."

A moment of silence passed during which I considered taking his sidearm. It was the same handheld blaster that I frequently used to check out of the armory. He must have noticed me looking at it, because he stepped back through the doorway.

"Your droid is in maintenance, so I'm your warden for the time being," he explained, his voice altered by the helmet he wore. The insignia on his collar indicated his low rank.

"Private, prison wardens are usually Sergeants and above," I taunted, crossing my arms. "Are you sure you reported to the right station?"

"Positive," the young Trooper snapped. I could hear the annoyance in his voice, and I took it as a small victory. "No more mouth or I'll draw my weapon on you. Understood?"

I had to mentally stomp down my temper. _This is not the time or place. You're not his superior anymore._ "Yes," I ground out.

"Anyway, I need to take you to the mess hall down there," he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "Are you going to come willingly?"

 _Just be compliant,_ a voice in my head reminded me. _This is just like any other day._

"Yes, Trooper. Lead the way," I said.

"After you." Stepping aside, he gestured for me to take the lead.

I walked down the familiar corridor to the mess hall with a storm of thoughts in my mind. The sudden change in routine awakened new possibilities. Instead of focusing on the mindless task like I usually did, I took notice of the other doors in the hallway. Locked doors, that could hold anything—weapons, other prisoners? My mind almost screamed its next thought. _Vegas!_

Calmly entering the mess hall, I greeted the cook as normal and began filling a small plate. He returned the greeting, his eyes darting to the new Stormtrooper with unease. As I took my usual seat, my temporary warden stood awkwardly by. My food was tasteless as my thoughts continued to race.

"You're Corporal Caltrel, aren't you?"

I turned towards the Trooper in surprise. "I _was,_ " I said grimly. "Not anymore."

He crossed his arms across his breastplate, a casual gesture. "Because you defected," he surmised. When I nodded blankly, he asked "Why did you do it?"

I continued to look at him with a vacant expression. He got the idea before long, and his gaze dropped to the floor. I suddenly got the sense that this private was very young and naive. "Why do you think I did it?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he answered, shifting. "There are rumors. I don't know if I believe any of them."

My curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

"Like, you were undercover for the Resistance. Or like, you had something to do with the Supreme Leader's … you know."

Turning my attention back to my hot breakfast, I hummed in acknowledgement. "Those are some rumors," I murmured.

"Yeah," the Trooper said.

An idea popped into my mind like a light switch turning on. The possibility of seeing Vegas became tangible, but I needed this young Stormtrooper to trust me. _If not trust, maybe respect_.

"Did you have any friends on the Jakku mission?" I asked, glancing at the Trooper sideways.

"No, but my one friend was on the Libra mission under you. Thomas Aquarius," he said.

I recalled that desert mission, almost a year ago, like it was yesterday. It was my first time leading Stormtroopers into combat. It was my first exposure to Ren's ability to slaughter indiscriminately. It was the mission that had almost taken Vegas' life.

"I remember Thomas," I said, recollecting the Resistance stronghold that we infiltrated. "He was very brave."

The Trooper nodded silently, eyes fixed on the ground. "He was on _Starkiller_."

A frown overtook my face. "I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "I'm sure he died a noble death."

"Nope," came his swift retort. "Damn Resistance."

I shook my head in disbelief, thinking of all the lives lost on _Starkiller_. Having been on the planet-sized ship myself, it was unfathomable to imagine it being destroyed. Many innocent people had been sacrificed—and for what? Surely that wasn't part of the "new birth" that Ren had spoken of. My plate of food sat before me, suddenly unappetizing.

Standing up, I took my half-eaten place to the disposal. My Stormtrooper followed at my heels. I decided it was the best time to attempt my plan to see Vegas.

Rounding on him, I chirped, "So, normal schedule for the day?"

Hesitation—a good sign. "Yeah," he said. "What do you usually do next?"

"I usually see Sergeant Vegas after breakfast, but—" I shrugged. "If that's too much to ask, I can skip a day.

"Sergeant Vegas? In the isolation ward?" His voice revealed his surprise.

I nodded. For a moment, I thought he might be onto my scheme, but he finally gestured for me to lead the way out the door.

"After you," the Trooper said.

My nerves picked up once we were out in the hallway. I wasn't familiar with this part of the ship, but the "isolation ward" didn't sound like it could be anywhere near a mess hall or a med bay. So, I turned in the opposite direction of my cell and started walking. I was supposed to be making this trip daily, so I couldn't afford taking any wrong turns.

I squeezed my sweaty palms together as the Stormtrooper's footsteps followed after me.

Luckily for me, there was a biometric reader on the door at the very end of the hallway. I lagged behind as the Trooper waved his palm over it. He instinctively walked through the door and then gestured for me to follow. He was facing towards the right.

From there, I saw a plaque over the next section of corridors which read "Isolation Rooms." It had an arrow pointing to the left. I thanked the stars for my good fortune. _Not so far after all._

The entrance to the ward was guarded by a faceless staff sergeant in Stormtrooper armor. He stood when we entered the room, and the private approached him with a salute. "Sergeant," he greeted. "Here to see John Vegas."

The sergeant gave me a lingering glance. My orange prisoner's clothing was hard to miss. "You're here on orders?" the sergeant asked gruffly.

"Yes," the private replied.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _Whose orders?_

After another lengthy pause, the sergeant gave a terse nod. "Cell #6," he said.

The isolation rooms on the _Supremacy_ were much like the ones on _Starkiller_. The hallway leading to the cells was dark, and each heavy door had one small window. I thought back to my brief stay in such a cell on _Starkiller_ , with one Sergeant Vegas as my warden. Once we reached #6, the private gestured to the cell door.

"I'll wait out here," he said.

"Thanks," I simply said, not wanting to try my luck any further.

I grasped the lock and twisted it to open the cell door, pushing in as I did so. As I stepped through the door, bright lights switched on. Vegas lay on the empty floor, clearly startled awake by the intrusion. The cell door slammed shut behind me.

" _John_ ," I breathed, dropping to my knees. I put a hand on his shoulder to settle him. "John, it's me."

Grabbing my hand off his shoulder, he pulled himself upright and blinked at me. I noticed the black eye and swollen lip immediately. "Lucy?" he rasped.

"Yes," I said, brushing my hand across his undamaged cheek. "Who hurt you? Are you okay?"

"I'm alive," he said cryptically, adjusting myself on the ground. I sat in front of him, looking up into his bruised face. "It looks worse than it feels, trust me."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Who…?"

"It was Ren," he said, touching his lip with a wince. "He saw me in the interrogation room a while after we arrived. I've been here ever since."

I immediately felt a crushing amount of guilt. _How can Ren treat him so poorly while I am given everything I need and more?_ I quickly remembered: the baby.

"The craziest part is," Vegas continued, shaking his head, "he didn't even care about why I defected. He didn't care at all." Vegas rested his arms on his drawn-up knees, looking at me with empty eyes.

"He told me you were pregnant."

My eyes fell to the floor, and I drew my knees to my chest. I felt so ashamed that I couldn't even look Vegas in the eyes. "Yeah," I whispered.

"Is it his?" he asked. When I looked up at him, I saw a hopeful glint in his eye. My heart felt like it was being torn in two.

"Yes," I said, feeling my emotions slipping out of control. "It's … too old to be yours."

Vegas' face had fallen into his hands. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'd hoped that, well … at least it wouldn't be his."

"He found out … about us." My voice trembled with each, barely-audible word.

"He—" Vegas stopped, letting out a sardonic laugh. "Well, that explains the black eye."

"John," I hissed, "how can you joke about this?"

"You know humor is my coping mechanism," Vegas replied, shifting his weight with another wince. The hard ground seemed familiar to him. "Better now than ever."

I remained silent while I briefly glanced around the room. The bed seemed as though it had been removed, leaving behind only the toilet and the sink area. There was no furniture, just four steel walls.

"You look well," Vegas then said with a smile in his voice. "How are they treating you?"

"Very well," I replied, picturing my own, luxurious cell. "Because of the baby."

"Of course," Vegas breathed, resting his forehead on his arms. "How's Ren?"

My mind went back to the handful of interactions I'd had with Ren since being captured. Describing Kylo Ren's behavior in just a few words was never easy. "He's been … friendly."

Vegas' head shot up. "Lucy, really?" His face was incredulous.

"He's been aggressive a few times, but overall …" _Did I just describe Ren as "friendly"?_

"Are you resisting at all? Are you planning any escape?" Vegas pressed.

My mouth gaped as I thought of my response. "I haven't been resisting. And neither should you," I said, pulling my eyebrows together.

Vegas let out a breath of a laugh. "Are you crazy? Listen to yourself!" he whispered under his breath.

I watched his betrayed expression in confusion. "John, we're not prisoners of war. And I don't know about you, but I want to get out of this _alive_." I gestured between us as though this should be obvious.

Vegas was shaking his head with a scornful smile on his face. "I can't believe this," he said, his voice cracking. "Nothing has changed. You're still his."

I felt a small flame of anger ignite inside me. "I'm not 'his,' okay? He hates me now. He just wants me to deliver this child." I sat up on my knees to get Vegas' attention. Pointing to myself, I said, "That's my ticket to staying alive. What's yours?"

Vegas looked at me with sincere concern for a moment. Concern for me or for himself, I didn't know.

With a _clack_ , the cell door swung open, barely missing my ankles. "It's been, um, ten minutes," said the Stormtrooper on the other side.

I looked Vegas right in the eyes, hoping to communicate my thoughts directly into his mind: _Don't get yourself killed!_ His worried eyes stared back at me as I stood. "I'll see you soon," I said shakily as the cell door clamored shut.

"Alright, I have to take you back now," the Trooper said, interrupting my anxious thoughts. I nodded and turned down the hallway, feeling an unwelcome swell of emotion in my chest. _That might be the last time I see John._

_That might be the last time I see John._

Biting the inside of my lip, I nodded to the sergeant as we passed by his desk. He nodded back. Out in the corridor, my warden cleared his throat under his helmet.

"Good visit?"

I was glad to be walking in front of him as my eyes watered, blurring my vision. I just hummed in response, not trusting my own voice at that moment. Maneuvering back to my cell on autopilot, I focused on keeping my tears at bay. I walked through the open door without a second thought.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything about your droid," the private said, his hand hovering over the external door control. "And … I'm sorry about your friend."

Vegas' bruised and bloody face flashed in my mind. "Thank you," I said in a shaky voice, swallowing hard. I turned away as the door snapped shut and the force field came to life.

Making a run for the bedroom, I threw myself onto the bed and pressed my face into a pillow. My tears came hot and fast, soaking through the thin pillowcase easily. I couldn't get the image of Vegas out of my mind. He didn't deserve any of it. If anything, I deserved it. Vegas left the First Order because he couldn't kill anymore. I left because I was selfishly running from something I couldn't overcome on my own. If anyone deserved to be beaten and locked in a cell for days on end, it was me.

My fist slammed into the mattress beside my head as sobs racked my body.

_I have to save him, no matter the cost._


	7. The Ticket

**S-2_C-7: The Ticket**

I woke to a garble of Droidspeak. As I struggled to open my eyes, I realized I must have fallen asleep crying. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and blinked at my surroundings. The light of the day cycle filled the room. BB-9E watched me from across the room.

"So, you're back," I said, pulling myself to the side of the bed. I rested a hand on my aching stomach.

9-E beeped a terse greeting, its red eye holding steadily on me. It then let out a string of familiar beeps that indicated it was time for a meal.

"It's dinnertime already?" I asked, glancing at the clock on the dresser. _Well past dinner._

9-E rolled out of the room with a mechanical hum, and I stood to my feet. The morning's events entered my mind like a rush of cold water. Vegas' face appeared at the forefront of my thoughts. I shook my head to clear the image. I glanced at the communicator on the bedside table—the one that Ren said was strictly for emergencies.

_I need to talk to Ren about getting Vegas out of there._

Entering the refresher, I splashed some water on my face to clear the haze of the unplanned nap. The guilt of knowing that Vegas was sitting in a cramped, uncomfortable cell ate at the edges of my mind. I buried my face in the towel for several, lingering moments.

_Will he listen to me?_

I followed the droid out into the corridor like always. The young Stormtrooper had at least been a needed distraction from the numbing routine of my captivity. I stared at my dinner aimlessly until I eventually left the untouched plate at the disposal.

_I need a very good excuse to contact him._

Back in the room, I paced the white space around the living area. 9-E chirped nervously as I walked along the force field—the droid hated when I did that. The more I wracked my mind for ideas, the more anxious I became.

My first thought was the idea of hurting myself and making it look like an accident. _But the baby._ The prospect of threatening to hurt myself seemed promising, but I didn't want to lose the small amount of freedom that I did have. The only piece of leverage that I had in the situation was the baby, but even that was totally out of my control.

Finally, I gave up on making an elaborate plan. I sat on the bed with the communicator strapped to my wrist, watching the blue light flashing at its steady pace. _I have to do this for John._ I recalled our last conversation—if one could call it that—and realized that we parted on bad terms. He'd said, " _You are the mother of my child. Nothing more._ " It was very possible that Ren was still angry with me.

" _You'll remember your place soon enough."_

I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. Did I have a place, or did I not? I released a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. Did I want a place in Kylo Ren's crazy world?

The blue light continued to blink. On, off. On, off. On, off.

_I have to do this. For John._

The blue light stayed on as the frequency was sent out. I inhaled a shaky breath while I waited for the com to open on the other end. Soon enough, it did.

" _This is Ren,_ " he answered. Did he answer without checking the frequency?

I pressed a clammy palm into my forehead. _What now?_ "Kylo …," I started.

" _Lucia._ " His deadpan voice indicated that the call was not welcomed. " _What is it?_ "

"Kylo, I …" My voice trembled as I spoke. My mind raced at hyperspeed. "I need to see you. It's urgent."

" _What happened?"_ he asked curtly. I wondered if he was busy. I wondered if he was still aboard the _Supremacy_.

"Nothing happened," I hedged nervously. "I just need to see you."

There was a pause. " _If you don't feel well, have the droid take you to the medical bay._ "

"I feel fine," I said. A shuddering sigh escaped me. "I need you here," I breathed. "Please."

Ren's displeased grunt was audible over the communicator. " _I can't afford for this to be a daily occurrence,_ " he said.

"It won't be."

After a long pause, the com closed. I lowered my wrist, feeling a small bit of relief. I knew I could convince Ren to have mercy on Vegas as long as we were face to face. _I hope so._ Anxiety flooded me.

9-E watched me as I practically flew into the fresher, making sure my appearance was decent. I pulled my fingers through my quickly growing hair, letting it fall around my shoulders loosely. I fussed with my baggy orange clothing until I realized it was a futile endeavor.

I then sat on the ground outside the lounge, with the door to my cell fully in view. My heart rate and breathing eventually slowed as the minutes dragged on. The bright whiteness of the day cycle began to fade to gray in preparation for the night cycle. About an hour later, the force field powered down as the doors slid open.

Two Stormtroopers entered the now grayscale room. Each wore a red shoulder plate—just like my old armor. It indicated trust. "Prisoner," one said pointedly. "Follow us."

I didn't bother to ask where they were escorting me. After I stood, my head spun for a few seconds. _I guess I haven't eaten much today._ My bare feet padded across the floor until I reached the Troopers, who followed me out of the room.

Unknown corridors gave way to familiar ones as we neared the officer's quarters. Just like the _Finalizer,_ the _Supremacy_ separated the enlisted and officer living spaces on two different decks. If I hadn't been told that I was aboard the _Supremacy_ , I wouldn't have known the difference. We finally reached the officer's quarters, and then continued passed them.

_Where are we going?_

We approached a small speed lift that was locked with a biometric reader. Puzzled, I watched one of the Stormtroopers wave it open.

The ride in the lift was painfully silent. I tapped my fingers together as we ascended dozens of levels. _How big is the_ Supremacy _exactly?_ I made a mental note to study its schematics on the computer terminal back in my cell. Finally, the lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.

The room was equally large as it was dark. Shadows lingered in every corner while the rear wall glowed a devilish red. Stepping out of the lift, I found myself walking on polished black glass. I looked up to find a towering throne. The occupant of the throne sat there with his chin resting on his gloved fist.

 _This is_ — _or, was—the Supreme Leader's throne room._

One of the Stormtroopers nudged me forward from behind, and I stumbled ahead with a bad feeling growing in my stomach. The throne looked even bigger than it had in Snoke's holocommunications that I had been privy to. As I got closer to Ren's throne, he waved the Stormtroopers away. I approached alone, stopping short when I was close enough to make eye contact.

"Welcome," he said lowly. He gestured to a stool that was completely dwarfed by the throne's massive size. I stepped forward and took a seat, craning my neck to look up at him. His dark-rimmed eyes were fixed ahead on something. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.

"This is …"

"Where Snoke sat," Ren finished, a frown tugging at his lips. "Yes."

I breathed in a crisp lungful of air, glancing to see the two Stormtroopers now posted by the lift doors. The room felt cold and empty.

"What did you want?" Ren asked. I turned to see his brown eyes fixed on me, appearing coal black in the darkness. It was strange to see him in a "public" place without his helmet.

"There's something important I need to speak with you about," I said. I clasped my hands together in my lap, trying to retain my body heat in the frigid room.

"I'm listening," he said, almost in a whisper. I sensed that he felt more comfortable here than in my cell. _More in control_.

I carefully formulated my next words. "I've heard that you're keeping John in the isolation rooms."

His eyes traced my face, assessing. "And?"

The knot in my stomach felt like some invisible hand was squeezing my abdomen. The image of Vegas' wounds still haunted me, even as I looked into Ren's scarred face."I need your word that he won't be harmed," I said.

Ren shifted away to place an elbow on the opposite armrest of the throne. His profile was unreadable. "Vegas is alive and unharmed," Ren replied. It was a lie. "But I cannot guarantee that he won't be punished for a future escape attempt."

My face contorted in dismay. "Why is he being treated like some kind of prisoner of—"

"Lucia," he interrupted, glancing at me in warning. His normal volume sounded like shouting. "He is a defector and deserves a traitor's punishment. As do you," he reminded me.

"Surely—" I swallowed when my voice caught in my throat. "Surely there's some way to redeem ourselves."

Eyes snapping back to my face, he studied it briefly. "You want to redeem yourself?"

My mouth gaped as my reply lingered somewhere in my mind. A moment later, it became as clear as the stars in the sky. "I am willing to do anything to survive."

Ren's pensive gaze intensified. "Anything?" he asked with a quirked brow. "Everything?" When I failed to answer, Ren leaned forward until our faces were close. "You told me that once before, nomad girl."

My mind flashed with memories from over a year ago—a firing squad, their blasters whirring to life as they aimed at the back of my head. The fear I had felt that day still echoed in my mind. _I did so much for you,_ I wanted to say. _I killed for you, I bled for you._ Instead, I rasped, "I didn't know what was in store."

Ren hummed wearily. "Nor did I," he murmured.

He moved to rest his forehead on his open palm. The exhaustion was evident in his body language as well as his face. When he spoke, his tone was dismal. "I cannot promise Vegas' safety, Lucia."

"Let me speak with him," I pressed on, undeterred. "If I can speak with him, I can ensure he won't try to escape."

Ren's tone became aggressive. "That's not the only reason he's in isolation," he ground out. "He has renounced his oaths to the First Order. If he were anyone else, he would have been executed by now."

The word bounced around in my mind like a stay blaster bolt. I felt my face drain of color. "E-Executed?"

"I imagine that would upset you," Ren commented. I looked at his impassive face in disbelief. How could he talk so callously of an old comrade? "So he lives … for now."

My stomach churned with nausea. "Is there anything I can do to ensure his survival?"

An idle flame burned behind Ren's dark eyes. "Yes." His voice was barely a whisper. "Swear to me that you'll stay by my side," he said. "Forever."

I slowly shook my head, lips trembling, eyes falling. _It's too much to ask._ "I can't …"

"You can," he interjected, reaching a gloved hand to lift my chin. I looked into his intense eyes, and I was transfixed. "You _will_ swear it to me."

I suddenly felt foolish for opposing him. _Of course I can._ "I will swear it to you," I repeated. "I swear to stay by your side—forever."

For a moment, the tiredness in Ren's face faded. "Very well," he murmured. "Then Vegas will live, as long as you keep your vow."

Relief washed over me like a warm breeze. I practically shook with excitement. "Really?" I asked.

Ren nodded, relaxing back on the throne. "You have my word."

I closed my eyes briefly, letting a breath escape. With it, I said, "Thank you."

Ren did not reply. Instead, his eyes returned to that fixed point ahead. "It's late," he noted. "Go and rest." He motioned for the Stormtroopers to approach.

Rising to my feet, I felt an icy rush of blood against the back of my skull. The room spun, causing me to lose my balance. As I began to fall, Ren caught me by the waist and pulled me upright. I looked up into his face in surprise.

"Be careful," he scolded. As he withdrew his hands, he gently added, "And keep our child safe."

The stars of the night cycle surrounded me as I lay wrapped in my white bed sheets. The rolling hunger pains kept me awake, as well as the many thoughts in my head. I began to have doubts about the vow I made to Ren. Was the price of Vegas' life too high? Could any one life have a price? After the baby was born, would Ren continue to abuse me? Would he go back on his word and kill Vegas? These thoughts caused me to toss and turn until the blackness of unconsciousness claimed me.


	8. The Loss

**S-2_C-8: The Loss**

Rousing from a restful night of sleep, I turned to press my cheek into the softness of the pillow under my head. I heard 9-E's string of whirs and beeps, no doubt upset that I was late for breakfast. As I willed myself to fall back asleep, I noticed the cramps in my stomach. _I guess I do need breakfast_ , I thought.

Sitting up, I flinched at the discomfort in my abdomen. I pressed my hands into my belly as the discomfort grew into a sharp pain. I gasped with the intensity of it. "9-E … something's wrong."

I pulled the sheets back to get myself to—

_...Blood?_

The sheets were stained with patches of brownish blood. I covered my mouth with my hands as currents of shock ran through me. My mind raced back to the medical officer's advice that there may be small amounts of bleeding in the first trimester of pregnancy. I held my breath as I worked my way to the side of the bed, headache pounding with each heartbeat. Standing, I felt a rush of warmth in between my legs.

Twin trails of blood ran down my bare legs.

My vision narrowed to a tunnel as I stumbled to the fresher. Dizziness quickly gave way to nausea and I collapsed in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach. I gagged on the acidic bile in my throat. Gasping in a shallow breath, I yelled, "9-E, call someone!"

The second bout of cramps was so painful that I screamed out in pain. I caught hold of the rim of the toilet when my knees slid on the blood pooling around me. My breathing came in shallow, ragged pants, and I began to feel extremely lightheaded. I heard a whimper of fear come from the back of my throat. Unable to keep my head up, I rested my forehead on the cold metal in front of me. _What's happening to me?_

It felt like I was trapped inside a nightmare that I couldn't control.

The medical officer's voice sounded like it was underwater as he pulled my head up, beaming a bright light into my eyes. I felt hands lifting my numb body onto a stretcher—how many people could fit into the tiny refresher? As they lifted the stretcher, gravity shifted, and I was rocked into a shallow sleep.

White lights shined in my eyes as I blinked the blurriness away. Pain—so much pain—radiated through my entire body. Or was it just my abdomen? People wearing full face shields stood above me, focusing on some task. I looked into one of their faces, trying to recognize him. My vision was still too blurry. A bag of bright red liquid hung on a pole beside him.

A sharp pain in my stomach caused me to cry out, retracting away from whatever metal tool had caused it. The unrecognizable man said something like, "Give her another five cc's." After that, I dozed off to sleep again.

_The wind whispered against the sands as I laid on my back, watching the blue sky. The day was warm without being too hot, and the twin suns shined brightly above. I felt their heat on my skin. For a moment, my eyes slipped shut in contentment._

_A sudden weight on my stomach made me let out a surprised laugh. Sitting up, I lifted the toddler onto my lap and bounced him on my knees._

_"Did you eat your lunch, little man?" I asked, nuzzling our noses together. His chocolate eyes were full of joy._

_"Yes," the child giggled. "Daddy helped."_

_Glancing at Ben, I smiled when I saw him picking at the remnants of our son's picnic lunch. "Looks like he's still helping," I murmured, drawing his eyes._

_With a guilty smile, he placed the leftovers back into the basket. As he shifted closer on the thin quilt, his eyes lingered on the child in my lap. Ben's short hair danced in the warm breeze, grazing his eyes. He must have sensed my gaze, because he looked up at me._

When I came to again, I felt groggy and disoriented. As my vision slowly cleared, I recognized the med bay. Instead of the usual exam room, I laid in a gurney with several blankets covering me. A monitor beeped rhythmically beside the bed. I wiggled my fingers and toes to make sure I wasn't still dreaming.

Movement in my peripheral vision caused me to look to the side of the bed. A medical assistant stood there, her brown hair pulled back into a tight braid. She turned away from the monitor to look at me.

"Oh," she said in surprise. She looked over her shoulder and called, "Sir, she's awake."

Someone appeared at the bottom of my bed—it was the medical officer. He wore a grim expression with his hands clasped behind his back. "We're going to keep you here overnight to monitor your vital signs," he said. "We did have to give you some blood, but the procedure itself went well."

_Procedure?_

My memory trickled back into my mind. _The bloody sheets, the painful cramps…_ I squeezed my eyes shut when I realized what he had meant. When I tried to speak, my throat felt like glue; I couldn't talk.

I looked at the medical officer helplessly. " _My baby_ …," I mouthed.

"Give yourself some time to recover," the officer advised. His mouth opened as if he had something to add, but then he walked away.

As I stared at the ceiling above me, I felt tears gather in my eyes. The medical assistant appeared in my peripheral once more, giving me a sad smile. "Just relax," she said. "The medications will wear off soon."

Nodding, I closed my eyes and gave into my lethargy.

The next few hours felt like minutes. Was it a side effect of the medications that they gave me? I could only wonder. Unsure if I had fallen asleep again, I felt something touch my hand. My eyes snapped open to find the same metal ceiling above me. _Someone is holding my hand._

I glanced down to see a crumpled figure at my bedside, face cradled in his arm on the mattress. I recognized Ren's raven hair, long and disheveled from neglect. I wanted to reach out and touch it, but my free hand was trapped under the sheets. The med bay seemed empty, save for a medical bot that hovered nearby. Looking around the dim room, I wondered if it was already nighttime.

Ren's head shot up at the small sound of my movement. His eyes were soft as he gazed down at me. "Lucia," he whispered, swallowing hard.

An irresistible smile spread on my face. "You're here," I croaked, my throat feeling like sand. I squeezed his hand and felt a small squeeze in return.

"They told me what happened," Ren said, his eyes moving between my own. Did I imagine the concern on his face?

"What did they say?" I asked him, blinking the dryness out of my eyes.

A dark expression overtook Ren's face. He told me, "They said you went into labor early because the fetus had some kind of chromosomal defect. They had to ... remove it, so you wouldn't go into shock."

 _Miscarriage._ A deep sadness filled my chest. Not for myself, but for the unborn child that never had a chance to see this world. Tears spilled from my eyes, rolling down my temples. "I'm sorry," I sniffled.

Ren stood and leaned forward, placing his lips on my forehead. He held my hand tightly between us. "Don't be. There was nothing you could have done differently," he murmured against my skin.

Reaching up, I wound my arms around his neck and buried my face in him. I felt him begin to pull back, his hands gently urging my arms away. But I held fast, pouring all of my bitter feelings into the desperate embrace. My eyes were tightly shut, but my tears fell unfettered. I wished on every star that he could feel the deep sorrow that I was feeling. He soon relaxed in my arms, returning the embrace in earnest.

Then, tendrils of Ren's mind probed at the edges of my consciousness, as if asking for permission to enter. I pushed my emotions toward him with all the mental energy that I had. Not only my sadness, but my regret, my conflict, my doubt. I wanted him to see every single negative feeling and thought inside my head. I wanted him to know how I suffered.

And for a moment, all those feelings were taken away like a cloud wisping off into the atmosphere. They were replaced by sentiments of love, desire, and a fervent need to protect.

_Are these Ren's feelings?_

Ren began to shake as he held me. His soft weeping, so close to my ear, was a foreign sound. As my own tears dried up, I held him tightly. "Your pain," he gasped, his voice thick with tears. "It's so great."

"Kylo," I heard my voice say, "do you love me?"

Ren withdrew, mentally and physically, as though the words had burned him. He held me loosely, looking down at me with red, watery eyes.

"Lucia," he began, his voice unwavering. "I truly, deeply love you."

I blinked up at him. For so long, I had loved Kylo Ren. All that time, I never dared to even whisper the words out loud, let alone consider if he felt the same. When the abuse began, my resentment and fear began to pile up, taking over my heart. But beneath it all, my love for him still remained.

"Don't deny your feelings any longer," Ren continued, his eyes tracing my face. "You feel it, too."

Reaching up, I wiped a stray tear from his face. "I've always loved you," I said, caressing his cheek with my thumb. "I didn't know you felt the same."

"Snoke used to say that love makes you weak," he said. "Now I know that not to be true." Ren lifted a hand to cradle my face; his eyes were filled with intensity. "With you by my side, I can become the strongest man in the Galaxy."

The joy in my chest burst to life, sending little shocks throughout my body. I closed my eyes, wishing that this moment could last forever. I felt his warm lips on my cheek, placing a kiss there.

"Rest tonight," Ren instructed gently in my ear. He pulled away from me, and I immediately felt the loss. "I'll send for you in the morning."


	9. The Vindication

**S-2_C-9: The Vindication**

The medication that the medical officer discharged me with tasted bitter. He said that I would need to take it for ten days to prevent any kind of infection. He also said that I would experience light bleeding and cramping for the next several days. It was a painful reminder of what had happened. Despite the circumstances, I felt a skip in my step.

As 9-E and I made our way back to my cell, I spotted a Stormtrooper standing outside the door. He straightened up when he saw me approaching.

"Corporal," said a familiar voice. "We just got finished moving all your stuff to your new room."

"Is that you, Private?" I asked. I glanced at 9-E when it let out a string of confused beeps. "He stood in for you when you were in maintenance," I clarified.

The private seemed startled that I was speaking to a droid. "Yeah," he laughed, "it's me."

I folded my arms across the loose medical clothing I wore, feeling a bit self-conscious. _As if the orange prison garb is any better._ "They're moving me somewhere else?" I asked weakly.

"Yep," said the private. "I think you'll like it. It's way bigger than my quarters." He turned on his heel with a gesture. "Follow me."

I hesitated, turning towards the door. "I just want to make sure you got everything—"

"You can't go in there!" The Trooper moved his arm to block the door controls. "There's another prisoner in there now," he explained. I looked up at him in confusion. "It's your friend," he added quietly.

I let out a sigh of relief. _Thank the stars._

After following the private through various corridors and lifts, I realized we were on the same deck as the throne room. We walked down an unfamiliar hallway that held only three sets of doors, stopping at the last set.

"Here we are," he said. "You'll probably have to reprogram this bio reader for yourself." He waved his hand over the device to open the doors. Sure enough, the doors slid open. "Yep."

Two other Stormtroopers were inside, moving some storage lockers around the room. They straightened in surprise when they saw us.

"All finished?" the private asked, motioning them out into the hallway.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison. I was impressed that the young Stormtrooper already had people serving under him.

"Alrighty," the private said casually. "Our work here is done." Turning towards me, he nodded in farewell. "Ma'am, I was told to instruct you to wait here for Supreme Leader Ren."

I balked in surprise, jarred by hearing the title for the first time. I tried to imagine exactly what these Stormtroopers thought of me. "Understood," I simply said. The three turned and walked down the corridor, leaving me alone.

_Alone?_

I glanced up and down the hallway for 9-E—it had been there just a moment ago. I trekked back to the last turn we had taken and looked down that corridor. The droid was nowhere to be seen.

_Does that mean I'm … free?_

After reprogramming the biometric scanner, I entered my new quarters with excitement. The first room, a lounge area, was similar to Ren's quarters aboard the _Finalizer_. This area led into a bedroom with an extensive refresher attached. The spacious bed looked inviting to my tired body, but my curiosity got the best of me. Returning to the lounge, I opened one of the storage lockers to reveal new clothing in an array of dark colors. I changed into a much better-fitting outfit before continuing my exploration.

A second door was attached to the lounge area, which opened automatically when I approached. Stepping through, I found myself in what seemed to be a briefing area. A large, holographic starchart was projected in the center of the room, with circular railing along the outside of it. I recognized the planets in the Western Reaches immediately. The floor of this room matched the dark glass floor of the throne room. Two doors stood next to mine—the one in the middle much larger than the other two. I waved my hand over the biometric scanner of the large door.

A computerized voice echoed through the empty room, " _Error: user not recognized. Access restricted to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren._ " When I tried the other door, it said, " _Error: user not recognized. Access restricted to General Armitage Hux._ "

One more door stood on the opposite side of the starchart. I maneuvered around the railing, gazing at the hundreds of red dots representing stars and planets. It was more elaborate than any map I had ever seen before.

Entering the final room, I realized with a jolt that I was standing behind Ren's throne. The room was as silent and cold as a crypt. I slowly maneuvered around the massive seat, trying to peer over the tall armrest.

"Well, well," I heard to my right, startling me. General Hux stood there in his full uniform, an impatient frown on his face. "If it isn't a traitor in the flesh."

I glanced at the empty throne, realizing that Hux was there to see Ren. Turning my eyes back on the general, I lifted my chin with bravado. "Don't look so pleased," I said.

"The vindication of a traitor is nothing to celebrate," Hux said with a sneer. His icy green eyes studied me idly. "How does it feel to be Ren's little plaything?"

Up until then, my interactions with General Hux had been few and far between. Although he had been my superior during my time with the First Order, I had first reported to Captain Phasma, then directly to Ren. Back then, he and Hux had been peers of sorts, but not any longer. Hux had been privy to my fraternization with Ren; however, he never said a word about it. Not to me, at least.

The word _plaything_ burned in the back of my mind. I looked at him impudently. "I could ask you the same question, Armitage."

Hux furrowed his brows while furry erupted on his face. He stepped one foot towards me. "You will address me with respect, _girl_. Or not at all."

I flinched slightly at his aggressive posture. "Last time I checked," I ground out, "I'm no longer under your command, General."

He withdrew, his lip still curled in anger. "You should be," he snapped.

The doors of the speed lift slid open at that moment, revealing a masked Ren. Immediately, Hux collected himself as though nothing at all had happened. As Ren approached us, he lifted his helmet to reveal a mess of dark curls. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking directly at me.

"How was your meeting with Lieutenant-General Graves?" Hux asked.

"He's well," Ren replied, his eyes not moving from me. I noted the dark circles under them. "His progress in the Western Reaches is impressive."

"Excellent," Hux chimed.

I began to feel uncomfortable under Ren's gaze, unable to read his expression. "Lucia," he said lowly, "return to your quarters."

"Actually," Hux interjected. "I believe now is an excellent time to discuss this … situation."

Ren and I simultaneously turned to Hux. I was sure my nervousness showed on my face. Thankfully, Ren spoke first. "It's no concern of yours, Hux," he said.

Instead of addressing Ren, Hux spoke directly to me. "Tell me, where _do_ your loyalties lie?"

"That's not your concern," Ren growled in frustration. I reached out a hand to calm him, quickly dropping it on second thought. I turned to Hux, who wore a gratified smirk.

"My loyalties lie with Ren," I shot back. "No more, no less."

I felt Ren's sideways glance as I met Hux's calculating gaze straight on. For the first time, his face was void of a sneer. "Leader Ren," he said, eyes darting away, "the cowardly Resistance has our numbers spread thin. Will you not add her to our forces?"

Ren was clearly taken off guard by the question; I was equally surprised. He cleared his throat and said, "Let's discuss this in private."

Glancing at the Stormtroopers guarding the speed lift, I lagged behind the two as they made their way into the briefing room. Ren set his helmet on a pedestal as he passed, allowing me to get a good look at it. Upon closer inspection, the black metal had red fissures throughout as though it had been cracked in battle. I stood quietly by as the two men leaned on the railing around the map. Hux was speaking to Ren intently.

"…will bolster the morale of the fleet, at least. At best, it will be a powerful tactical tool."

Ren glanced back at me with thoughtful eyes. "I'll consider it," he replied to Hux. "But the decision will ultimately be mine."

"Of course," said Hux, a tense smile ghosting his face.

"Graves is waiting in the hangar bay," Ren said, stepping away from the railing. "Please see him off."

"Yes, right away."

Ren fixed his eyes on me as General Hux left the room. I felt a swarm of butterflies erupt in my stomach once we were alone. The scene from the day before, in the dim med bay, flashed in my mind. _I truly, deeply love you._

"I missed Hux's idea," I admitted, self-consciously draping my arms across my torso. "Does he want to reinstate me?"

"Not quite," Ren replied. "Don't worry about it for now. You need to rest."

He guided me back to the entrance of my quarters. I couldn't help but notice that the biometric scanner did not respond to him—only to me. As we entered the lounge area, I felt the urge to address the lingering questions I had. So much had changed, and we had spoken so little.

"Kylo…," I started, trailing off. He stood by a bookshelf, studying the digital novels there. As he turned to me, I realized I didn't even know where to start.

"I wanted you to have your own quarters," Ren offered, stepping across the room to glance over the storage lockers. "Your own space."

"I appreciate it," I said formally. Sinking down on one of the couches, I winced at the soreness that I felt. The medical officer was right—prolonged standing was not a good idea.

Ren stared at a moving picture on the far wall of the lounge. The screen showed a small desert town with twin suns setting on the horizon. It reminded me of some recurring dreams of mine. Still facing away from me, Ren spoke.

"I failed you, Lucia."

I shook my head with the word "no" on the tip of my tongue. Ren silenced it with a tormented glance. "I violated your trust," he said.

My lips sealed into a line when I realized he was not speaking of recent events. He was speaking of the abuse that happened some short months ago. I nodded mutely, feeling the cold emptiness of those months returning to my mind. "Have—" I swallowed the lump in my throat with difficulty. "Have you changed?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. He paced across the room. "Back then, my ambition to find Luke Skywalker blinded me to everything else. Now that he is dead, now that Snoke is dead … everything has changed." The sincerity in his voice was unquestionable. "I can see clearly now."

I sensed the gravity of those events in the tone of his voice and his posture. This changed Ren seemed to be more understanding, slower to anger, and mature. He was no longer the spoiled and overly-aggressive Lord Ren that I had once known. _But can I forgive him?_

"I sense your doubt," Ren murmured, stepping closer. I looked away in embarrassment. "Don't worry—I will prove myself to you."

He was so close that I half expected him to sit beside me or touch me in some way. Instead, a moment later, I felt his presence withdraw. I looked up to find him halfway out the door.

"Kylo," I said, standing, "what am I supposed to be doing here?"

The tiredness in his smile pulled at my heartstrings. "Resting," he repeated. Before stepping outside, he added, "Staying by my side." Then the door closed behind him.


	10. Armitage Hux

**S-2_C-10: Armitage Hux**

Several days passed uneventfully. I would catch glimpses of Ren and Hux as they came and went from their quarters; often I would hear them using the holocom just outside my door. My soreness steadily improved each day until it vanished completely, but the memory of the miscarriage still lingered daily.

I spent most of my time reading from the extensive datapad collection on the bookshelf. On one such day, a protocol droid brought me a lunch tray as usual, and then, to my shock, a dinner tray. I set aside the datapads that had stolen most of my afternoon to pick at my dinner tray. Before long, I again picked up the datapad I had been reading.

It was called _The Force_. I had read about the topic back on _Starkiller_ when I was in training to be a Stormtrooper, becoming fascinated with Force-sensitive individuals like Kylo Ren. This text had a more informative narrative rather than the propaganda I was fed as a recruit.

It spoke about the nature of the Force, in its Cosmic sense and its Living sense. The Cosmic Force existed in the universe from the dawn of time, and it exerted its will through those who were Force-sensitive. The Living Force existed in all living things, which supplied the energy for those who had the ability to use the Force. Of particular interest was a limited list of abilities enabled by the Force:

Telekinesis, mind control, persuasion, enhanced reflexes and strength, the ability to sedate, the power of lightning, metaphysical immortality, and the ability to see the future.

I reread each ability, picturing Ren using such powers in battle. I had certainly never seen him use lightning before, and I doubted he had "metaphysical immortality." As my eyes came to the last one, I became lost in thought. I pictured the desert scenes from my dreams—Vegas tinkering with rusted droids, Ren entering the balcony of a cantina, and a child playing on a picnic blanket…

I almost laughed at my own thoughts. I couldn't help but remember Captain Phasma's blatant disregard for such fantastical things. When I brought up the discussion as a curious recruit, she had said something like, " _I prefer military tactics over sorcery. When our agendas align, I tolerate it."_

The door signal tore me away from my musings. _It must be Kylo._ I glanced at my half-eaten dinner before opening the door. On the other side stood General Hux.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you want?" I asked.

"I would like to speak with you," Hux said, pursing his lips. His darting eyes betrayed his nervousness. "If I may." He glanced behind me at the lounge table littered with datapads.

I hesitated. When we were alone together earlier, he had launched a verbal attack. "Does Ren know you're here?" I asked, dodging his request.

He looked at me with a weighted eye. "Do you need permission to speak with me?"

I felt my temper flare. _He really knows how to push my buttons._ "No," I simply replied.

Following him out into the empty briefing area, I noticed that the holographic display now showed a large red orb. With a second glance, I realized that it was _Starkiller_. A frown tugged at my lips. I faced Hux's back while he gripped the railing in front of him.

"Emperor Sidious, Darth Vader, and now Supreme Leader Ren. Do you know what these three leaders have in common?"

I almost flushed at the question. _Did he see what I was reading?_ "They all used the Force," I guessed.

"No," Hux replied, half turning towards me. "They all controlled massive armies of ordinary people, like you and me."

I nodded slowly, not sure where the conversation was heading. Hux turned to face me with a small smirk on his face. I then noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual outer coat, leaving him in his simple black uniform. It was similar to my gray officer's uniform. When my eyes returned to his face, the smirk was gone, and he straightened.

"I can see that I'm boring you, so I'll get to the point," Hux continued before I could get a word in edgewise. He stepped towards a metal trunk nearby. "I believe it would be a waste to not utilize a trained combatant such as you. I've had this delivered from one of the research frigates."

Opening the trunk, Hux stepped back to show me the contents. A pair of gunmetal gray gauntlets and a breastplate laid inside. I reached down to place my hand on the matte metal—it felt much sturdier than standard plastoid armor. Lifting the heavy tray, I found the accompanying cuisses and boots underneath. The helmet was noticeably absent.

"Special armor?" I cocked my head to look up at Hux. He stood with his arms crossed and a pensive expression on his face.

"Very special," Hux remarked. "Not only is this armor superior to any, it is also a symbol of strength to the men and women of the First Order." When my face remained puzzled, he added, "It is a recreation of Captain Phasma's armor. Unfinished, of course."

Looking back at the armor with new eyes, I traced over every detail. It was difficult to spot without the telltale chromium finish, but yes, it was very similar to her symbolic armor. With sadness, I recalled the woman that I had once aspired to be like. "Hux," I murmured, eyes fixed on the breastplate. "Do you know how she died?"

"No one knows exactly," Hux replied, a certain reverence in his voice. "But she died at the hands of the Resistance."

My hand curled into a fist on top of the breastplate. "Such a waste," I sighed.

"Indeed," Hux agreed. I felt him move to stoop beside me; I felt his eyes on me. "But her legacy can live on, through you."

I immediately shook my head, meeting his fiery gaze. "I could never be a leader like her."

"You might not have the administrative skills that Phasma possessed, but you are cunning in battle. I've read all your mission reports, Caltrel."

Standing to my feet, I regarded Hux with skepticism. He stood as well. "You're very trusting of a 'traitor,' Hux," I said.

He stood a bit too close, but I didn't want to step back and reveal my discomfort. Instead, we both stood our ground and maintained eye contact for a prolonged moment. Then, Hux said, "I think we both know why you left with that brat." His eyes flickered to my neck for half a second.

I swallowed thickly, remembering the lengths I went to hide the marks left on my body. I could almost feel the bruises on my neck as I recalled. _I thought only John knew about that._ "Don't act like you know me," I murmured.

Hux wore a pleased smirk as he withdrew a few feet away. "I would never presume to." He gestured to the trunk. "Please, try it on. Your clothing seems light enough."

I pushed aside my self-consciousness as I swept my hair into a bun. Lifting the tray out of the box, I picked out the cuisses and held them up. I could tell they were too long for my thighs just by looking at them. After slipping my legs into them, they felt just about right. I continued with the boots, the breastplate, and then the gauntlets. The armor felt bulky and heavy—much heavier than regular Stormtrooper armor.

"How does it feel?" Hux asked, hand on his chin as he watched me waddle in small circles.

"Heavy," I admitted, lifting an arm. It was as hefty as a blaster rifle. "Very heavy."

"You're probably out of practice," he noted, pulling a small device from his pocket. He pressed a silver button along the side. "Maybe this will help."

Suddenly, I felt weightless. The arm that I lifted felt like my regular arm; not like there was eight pounds of metal attached to it. When I moved my arm back down, I heard a motorized whir, much like a droid's hydraulics. I took a step forward with the same result—effortless, easy movement. "This is incredible," I breathed.

"It's a prototype," Hux said, looking at the control device in his hand. "It has the technology to make you faster, stronger, and deadlier on the battlefield."

My mind raced at the possibilities. I took a few more steps around the room, resisting the urge to run. _I could run incredibly fast if I wanted to._ I lifted my hand again, forming a fist. _I could throw a punch like a sledgehammer._ Focusing my attention back on Hux, I narrowed my eyes. "What's the catch?"

"There is none," he said innocently. He lifted the silver device. "Of course, your fate lies in the Supreme Leader's hands." As he said this, he pressed the button to deactivate the hydraulic system, causing me to stumble in surprise. I steadied myself, wondering what the other buttons on the device controlled.

I took off the armor in the reverse order that I put it on. Hux was silent as I did so. "Does Ren know about this?" I asked as I unstrapped the bulky cuisses.

"Not this prototype," Hux replied, leaning back on the railing around the hologram. "But he knows that I have been searching for a … candidate."

Closing the trunk with a _snap_ , I brushed my hand over the First Order emblem on the top. "Your confidence in me is surprising," I admitted, watching his stoic face. "I thought you of all people would want my head."

Hux breathed out a laugh—the first one I had ever heard before. "I know an excellent soldier when I see one. I also know how to inspire loyalty, unlike some."

 _Unlike Kylo_ , my mind interpreted. I suddenly became uncomfortable with the conversation. "I'll consider this," I said, gesturing to the trunk of armor.

"I will have it moved to the training area on the deck below this one." He reached out his hand to offer me the silver device. "I have a feeling that your curiosity has not yet been satiated."

I frowned. _He's right._ "I'll have to speak with Ren before I go any further."

"Even so," Hux said, still offering the device. I slowly took it from him, glancing over the unmarked buttons. "It will open only when this is nearby."

I slipped the device into my pocket. "Thank you," I said, lifting my eyes.

Hux bowed his head, his smirk in place. "Good evening, Caltrel."

He then returned to his quarters. As the door slid shut behind him, I glanced at the door to Ren's.

I didn't bother trying the biometric scanner, knowing that it wouldn't open to me. Instead, I pushed the button for the door signal. There was no answer for a full minute. I pushed it again, leaning my head against the door this time. I couldn't hear anything between the cool metal doors. Feeling a lonely pang in my chest, I returned to my room with Hux's offer fresh in my mind.

Sliding into bed early, I sighed as my tired body relaxed against the soft mattress. Ren was right—I needed rest. I tried to picture his reaction to the idea of me reentering the battlefield, but I couldn't quite decide what he would think. Judging by his exhausting schedule, I imagined he would be grateful for the help.

Or would he think of me as a hindrance? A potential runaway?

I thought back to the days of the reconnaissance team, back when it was just Ren, Vegas, me, and a handful of Stormtroopers. I wondered if Ren had gotten replacements for Vegas and I, or if he simply rotated through officers on missions. My mind conjured up the image of a female officer hanging on Ren's every word, his every step … Jealousy burned through my veins.

_I need to get back out there._


	11. The Training

**S-2_C-11: The Training**

I woke up the next morning with excitement. As I got ready for the day in the refresher, I noticed that my soreness had improved quite a lot. While I was still bleeding slightly, I felt more energized than I had in weeks. I wondered if the pregnancy had been taking a toll that I hadn't fully realized. As I looked at my flat stomach in the mirror, I became lost in thought about my would-be son. Would his eyes have been blue like mine or brown?

Somehow, I was sure it would have been a boy.

I chose light clothing for the day. Taking Hux's silver device from the nightstand, I slipped it into a secure pocket. As I entered the lounge area, I waved my thanks to the protocol droid that had just left me a breakfast tray. I took great care to finish every bite.

Walking the corridors without an escort felt strange. I was grateful that I didn't bump into anyone as I rode the speed lift one deck down. After some wandering, I found a set of doors marked "Training Zone 16A." I walked through the doors, hoping this was where Hux had the prototype armor delivered.

The room was very similar to the training rooms on the _Finalizer_ , if not identical. There were separate locker rooms, a shooting range, a sparring court, and an assortment of exercise equipment. Studying the room, I fell into recollection of training with Vegas. I missed our boxing matches. I missed seeing him every day, feeling the comfort of his presence. I pushed such thoughts aside. _He's going to be alright._

The metal trunk sat just outside the female locker room.

Putting the armor on somehow felt more awkward than the day before. The boots were two sizes too large, and the breastplate fit me loosely. Regardless, it felt great to be wearing such amazing technology. Pulling out the control device, I picked one of the three buttons at random; when nothing happened, I pressed another. The hydraulics whirred to life, making me feel as light as a feather.

Jogging around the training room felt like a breeze, and my speed was nearly double. I laughed when I came to a stop after running several laps—it felt exhilarating. Sweat dotted my forehead, but I didn't care.

_Time for some real training._

Since I wasn't sure if I was allowed to check a blaster out of the armory, I decided to make use of the various melee weapons in the training room. Of all the weapons available, I reached for a long, silver javelin. Lifting the eight foot staff felt like nothing; I twirled it in my hands like a baton. Not knowing my own strength, I accidentally let the weapon slip from my hands and clatter to the floor. The metal-on-metal sound echoed through the room, piercing my ears.

"Hand-to-hand combat is not as easy as it looks. Trust me."

I startled at the sound of the mechanical voice, whirling towards the open door. Kylo Ren stood in his full black robes, helmet and hood in place. His hands were folded behind his back as he watched me from the open door.

"K-Kylo," I sputtered, suddenly feeling silly in full armor. "How did you know I was here?"

"You were close enough that I could sense you," he said, inclining his head towards me. "I just returned from meeting with all the generals in the fleet." Despite his friendly tone, he left his helmet on. The unspoken " _What are you doing?_ " hung in the air.

I felt myself flush from my chest to my ears. "Um—" I cleared my throat. "Hux gave me access to this armor. It's a prototype replica of Captain Phasma's armor."

Ren neared me with his hands still behind his back, a speculative posture. His gaze traveled up and down my body, studying the unpolished armor. It was impossible to tell if he was upset behind the mask. While the armor did give me a boost in height, Ren still towered over me.

"Hux…," Ren began bitterly, "that manipulative bastard."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief that I was not the target of his anger. Ren reached out a gloved hand towards me, and I immediately knew that he wanted to look inside my mind. I closed my eyes, allowing him to file through my memories of the previous day. My conversation with Hux played out behind my closed eyelids. He also looked at my memories of studying about the Force.

Still inside my mind, he said, "I didn't know you were curious about the Force."

I looked up into his masked face for a moment. "Isn't everyone?"

Without replying, he went back to my conversation with Hux. He lingered on the moment when Hux mentioned—or rather, implied—that he had known about Ren's abuse. His fierce green eyes at that moment were burned into my memory.

"There were rumors among the officers," Ren said, his voice suddenly raw beneath the mechanical filter. "It wasn't difficult to snuff them out, but as always, Hux never forgets."

Ren withdrew, leaving me to collect my scattered thoughts. The familiar _hiss_ of his helmet being removed was a welcomed sound. As he lifted it, my eyes searched his face hungrily. His eyes softened when he looked at me, and he lifted his hand to caress my cheek briefly.

"I'm glad that Hux doesn't intimidate you," he said.

I smiled at his touch; it was gone too soon. "Me, too."

Stooping, he picked up the silver javelin from the ground with a comfortable finesse. He twirled it from arm to arm, his movement as fluid as water. Before I knew it, the dull edge of the staff hovered within inches of my neck. I swallowed, falling back a step or two.

"Have you ever held a weapon like this, Lucia?" Ren asked, lowering the javelin.

I shook my head. "Just my combat knife."

He retrieved a second javelin from the rack and threw it to me. I caught it easily, heart racing when I realized that Ren wanted to duel. I had never trained with Ren before, let alone engaged in melee combat.

"Kylo, there's no way I can…"

A devilish smile appeared on his face. "I'm going to teach you," he chided.

Ren made circles around me, prowling like an animal. I tried to match his stance by bending my knees and angling my torso. I also matched his footwork, step for step. When he stepped forward, I jumped back. When he lunged, I strafed away.

"You have good instincts," Ren noted. "But the enemies we may face on the battlefield are trained in the art of killing."

I bit the inside of my lip as we continued to circle one another. "I can handle myself with a blaster," I retorted.

Ren laughed under his breath. "I know," he said. Springing forward, he looped his javelin behind mine and twisted, releasing my weapon from my grip. It hit the ground as his javelin pressed into my neck, cold and stifling. He held the metal there and moved his face close to mine. "Some enemies are immune to your blasters."

"Immune?"

After the word left my lips, I knew what he had meant. Ren himself was immune to blasters—I had seen him stop a bolt in midair before. On my first day aboard the _Supremacy_ , he had mentioned another Force-sensitive human among the Resistance. The apparent successor to the late Luke Skywalker. _Rey._

Confirming my suspicions, Ren ignited his lightsaber. He flourished it about, filling the room with the hums and crackles of the deadly weapon. Red sparks danced about the trembling beam of light and its twin guards. The two javelins lay forgotten on the ground.

"Even a would-be Jedi is a very dangerous threat." Ren's face was illuminated in red as he studied the hilt of his lightsaber. A moment later, it retracted with a hiss. "Rey—she would kill you in an instant," he stated.

I felt my gloved hands become sweaty. "Is she as skilled as you?" I asked.

"Yes," Ren answered stiffly, turning his lightsaber around. He offered the hilt to me with an expectant look. "Take it."

I hesitated. _What if it burns me?_

"You can't win against something you fear, Lucia. Take it," Ren sternly instructed.

Hands trembling, I took the lightsaber. It was lighter than I expected, but then that might have been a result of the armor. I lifted it away from my body, thumb fumbling to find the button to ignite it. Bursting to life, the lightsaber vibrated with energy in my hand. I placed a second hand on the hilt to stabilize it, feeling the heat from the bright beam radiating on my face.

The smile on Ren's lips seemed subconscious. He picked another weapon from the training rack—a folding riot baton. Opening with a _snap_ , the baton's energy field glowed a ghostly white.

"This energy field resists the energy from my lightsaber." Ren raised the volume of his voice over the humming weapons as he returned to the sparring area. "Go ahead," he encouraged, lifting the baton defensively.

My heart hammered the inside of my ribcage as I looked from the lightsaber to Ren's excited face. Taking a shaky breath, I lifted the saber and brought it down to make contact with the baton. The saber bounced off like opposite poles of a magnet, leaving a loud explosion of red sparks behind. Frightened, I dropped the weapon with a shout. The blade retracted, and the hilt clamored to the ground.

Ren's pure-hearted laughter almost made the whole experience worth it. He pulled my trembling body into a tight embrace, ignoring the bulky materials between us. I felt him put his chin on the top of my head while I tried to slow my ragged breathing.

"That … That—" My voice shook like a leaf in the wind. "That—" Words were inadequate to describe the experience.

Ren had fallen silent as he held me. Pulling back, I saw the doubt in his eyes. He doubted that I would be able to handle myself in battle; doubted that I had the courage to face new challenges. _I need to do this_ , I thought. _I need to prove myself to him._

"Would you like to stop?" Ren asked quietly.

In answer to his question, I pulled away and scooped the riot baton off the ground. It whirred to life as I eased into a defensive position. "Go ahead," I said with a smile.

Ren's lightsaber flew into his hand and ignited within a heartbeat. The wild look in his eyes conveyed his approval.

After getting used to the intense bursts of sparks, I fell into a rhythm of blocking and dodging. It almost felt like dancing—very intense dancing. I could tell Ren was holding back, teaching me. However, I was sure that without the armor, I would have been overpowered by the slightest blow.

With one particular strike, Ren locked our blades together and pressed forward, causing me to stagger backwards. I dug my heels into the ground, pushing back with all my might. The heatwaves from his lightsaber washed over me. His eyes, illuminated by the haunting red color, were locked on my face. I grunted with the effort it took just to maintain my stance.

" _...for the briefing with the battalion commanders?_ "

Ren and I broke apart, panting and sweaty. My irregular breathing was mirrored by Ren's quick, shallow breaths. My heart thundered in my ears so wildly that I was sure even he could hear it. His wide eyes held mine wordlessly; the look in them sent sparks of excitement throughout my body.

" _Leader Ren?_ "

Ren retracted his lightsaber and raised his wrist to his mouth. "This is Ren," he said.

After a moment of hesitation, Hux's voice came through the communicator again. " _Leader, are you ready for the briefing with the battalion commanders?_ "

"Ten minutes," Ren replied, closing the com.

Stepping forward, Ren pulled me into a kiss. One of his hands held the back of my neck; the other wrapped around my waist, the hilt of his lightsaber pressing into my back. The baton dropped from my hand with a clatter. My fingers twisted in his hair, damp with sweat, tugging him closer as our lips moved together. His teeth pulled at my lower lip—hard at first, then soothing with a sweep of his tongue. There was nothing gentle about the kiss; it was raw passion. Too soon, he pulled away and placed a few chaste kisses along my jaw and the top of my neck. Raising his head back up, he placed our foreheads together. I opened my eyes to see that his were closed, his brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His hand was still on the back of my neck, holding me there. I closed my eyes tightly.

"Don't be," I said between breaths. "I want it, too."

Ren withdrew without looking at me. Startled by the abrupt change, I gaped wordlessly after him. He pulled on his abandoned helmet and snapped it in place; he also arranged his tunic with his back towards me.

"I won't be gone long," he said in a casual tone. "I'll look for you in your quarters later."

I watched him leave with a stunned look on my face. Touching my tingling lips, I felt my breath hitch in my lungs as I relived the kiss in my mind.

 _Well,_ I thought _, that went better than expected._


End file.
